Madam Guyon 



AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY 



ABRIDGED 
BY jjjS 
ANNA C.^REIFF 



THE EVANGEL PUBLISHING HOUSE 

3616 PRAIRIE AVENUE 

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS, U. S. A. 

19 11 



INTRODUCTION. 



FEW paths have been more strewn with crosses 
than the one which was trod by Madam Guyon. 
It can be truly said of her, she "followed in His 
train." No cross w x as too heavy for her to bear gladly, 
and no tribulation so grievous but that she gloried 
in it. 

She lived, labored, suffered and died in the Roman 
Catholic Church — a great light in the dense darkness 
that characterized the age of Louis XIV. She was 
naturally endowed with beauty, wit and ability, yet 
from early childhood she desired to become a saint, and 
had her father consented, would have spent her life in 
a cloister. An early, loveless marriage to a man many 
years her senior, and a heartless, selfish mother-in-law, 
caused her to seek the Lord and to renounce self; her 
desires were all turned to the silent path of suffering 
that Christ might be formed within her. 

After becoming a widow she was greatly used of 
the Lord in leading others into the interior path, 
among them many of noble rank, and here suffered 
the severest persecution from ecclesiastical sources. 
She was imprisoned for ten years, on a false charge, 
and banished for an equal number of years. Her auto- 
biography, which has passed through a number of edi- 
tions, was written while she was in prison, by the 
authority of her spiritual director. 

We make no apology for putting another edition 
before the public. The Christian world is just begin- 
ning to appreciate the depths in God this martyr spirit 
reached. As the light grows brighter and brighter 
on the teaching of holiness and the operations and 
workings of the Holy Spirit, the soul more and more 
thirsts for the Spirit-filled life, and nothing is so help- 

O.loS 

©CI.A305O31 

U 



INTRODUCTION 

ful as to study the lives of those who have gone 
through the experience of putting off self and putting 
on Christ. 

Much has been written along the line of sanctifica- 
tion and kindred themes, but no exposition of scrip- 
ture or statement of abstract truth is so helpful as the 
actual demonstration of that truth. Seekers after God 
have been flooded with sermons, and have devoured 
volumes on the subject of sanctification, but the great 
need of the Christian world is a practical demonstra- 
tion of the doctrine. Such was Madam Guyon. With 
her was laid down all earthly desire, as well as all 
earthly support ; with her, times and places were anni- 
hilated; prosperity and adversity, friendships and 
enmities, all equally the will of God. 

Her autobiography tells the secret of how she 
reached the place of rest and perfect submission to the 
will of God. Whether riding along a precipice, up- 
held only by the hand of God, traveling through a 
wood and accosted by robbers, or in the Bastile, where 
darkness and daylight were hardly distinguishable, 
she was ever unmoved, and her soul preserved a tri- 
umphant and joyful peace. She says that during her 
imprisonment "the stones of her prison looked in her 
eyes like rubies.' ' and her heart was so filled that she 
sang songs of joy. 

This edition is much abbreviated, though nothing 
that is vital has been omitted. It is sent out with the 
prayer that the valuable lessons contained therein will 
be helpful to every reader. A. C. R. 

Chicago, November, 1911. 



CONTENTS 

I. EARLY RELIGIOUS IMPRESSIONS— Birth and parentage— In 
a seminary at four — A dream and early conviction — Steps toward 
salvation at seven — Infantile devotion— Her study of the Bible at 
ten 7-14 

II. CONFLICTS IN YOUTH— Trials at home— Spiritual declension- 
First inlet of evil — Value of prayer — Desires to become a Nun. 15-20 

III. LAPSINGS AND INCONSISTENCIES— Spark of Divine 
grace dying — Vanity and pride — Inordinate reading — Sorrow and 
tears 21-28 

IV. BEGINNING OF SORROWS— Moves to Paris— An early, loveless 
marriage — unkindness of husband's mother — A multitude of crosses 
— Eating the bread of sorrows — Turning to God in affliction. . .29-39 

V. THE HAND OF PROVIDENCE— Birth of son— Husband's heavy 
losses — Confession of failures — Her reading — State of languishing — 
Miraculous recovery 40-45 

VI. INFLUENCES OF RELIGIOUS PERSONS— Assiduous in pray- 
er and charities — Helps : an exiled lady of piety, her cousin (mis- 
sionary to China), an ecclesiastic of St. Francis — Her conver- 
sion 46-52 

VII. VISIONS AND GIFTS— The Giver our object and aim— Warn- 
ings regarding revelations— Dying to Spiritual gifts — Following 
Christ in His poverty, abnegation and death 53-5G 

VIII. DEATH OF THE SENSES— Mortification of mind and self- 
will — Activity of self destroyed through prayer — Purgings of Divine 
Love— Immersion in God— Bears crosses and reproaches silently— 
Persecution and ridicule from the world — Insatiable for prayer — 
Opposition in family — Forbidden to pray 57-70 

IX. LIGHTS AND SHADOWS— A willing sacrifice— Interior devo- 
tions — Dryness and distress — Relapsing into faults — Banishment of 
soul from its Beloved — Seeking satisfaction without — Last blaze of 
vanity — Conflict of nature and grace — Prefers God's rod to His 
caresses — Solitary state 71-79 

X. THE FURNACE OF AFFLICTION— Stripped of her beauty— 
Small-pox — Rejoices in her humiliation — Resignation without re- 
serve — Death of youngest son — Interior graces and exterior 
crosses 80-86 

XI. IN THE WILL OF GOD— Domestic trials— Absence of cross 
brings sorrow — Faithfulness in trial — Spiritual consolations — God's 
will everywhere — Revolt of eldest son heaviest cross S7-94 

XII. EARTHLY LOSSES; HEAVENLY GAINS— Bears accusations 
silently — Failure through justification — Abasement more profitable 
than abounding — Conflicts with self-love — Darkness and crucifixion- 
Relieves suffering and distress — All earthly spiritual supports 
taken— Death of father and daughter — Courage in greatest danger- 
Past crosses but shadows of future ones 95-105 

XIII. SEVEN YEARS OF DARKNESS— Open hatred of brother- 
Profound peace — Unmoved in great danger — Intrigue and malice 
overruled by God— Internal strife — Sorrow and tears food and 
drink 106-115 

XIV. A NEW CRISIS— Miraculous protection of God— Death of hus- 
band—Vow of chastity — Arbiter in lawsuit — Crosses increase with 
widowhood — Outward and inward desolation 116-124 



XV. ALONE IN THE DESERT— Spiritual friends withdraw— Pre- 
fers privation to abounding — Death precedes life — All in God and 
God in all — Called to labor in Geneva — Through prayers of Father 
La Combe delivered from seven years* privation — Eternal glory in 
her soul— Losing gifts and supports, finds Giver — Double rendered 
for all her losses 125-185 

XVI. IN LABORS MORE ABUNDANT— Urged to enter God's service 
— Dreams and prophecies portend crosses and persecutions — Severe 
Illness — Gift of discernment — Enlargedness and liberty 136-143 

XVII. NEW SCENES AND EXPERIENCES— Leaves Paris with 
companions — Her child makes crosses and weaves a crown for her 
enroute to Geneva — God's life in time of great fatigue — Distributes 
her wealth — Interview with Anselm — Daughter's failing health 
144-154 

XVIII. SANCTIFICATION BY FAITH— Purity of soul through 
trial — The will dead to its desires— Passage of the soul into God — 
States of self-pleasing, visions, ecstacies, raptures, etc., obstacles 
to this state — Dying of the grain of wheat— Crosses from God, no 
resentment to the instrument — New persecutions 155-168 

XIX. GATHERING CLOUDS— Hypocrisy, jealousy and malice from 
ecclesiastical authority — With the Ursulines at Thonon — Remarks 
on the state of a pure soul — New slanders — Straight the gate to a 
life in God 169-178 

XX. CLIMBING SPIRITUAL HEIGHTS— Incidents of God's care- 
Soul travail for spiritual children — Burdened for Father La Combe's 
perfection — Used in healing — Apostolic power — Sick unto death — 
Death rebuked by Father La Combe — Labors and charities occa- 
sion new persecutions — More and more transformed unto God. 
179-200 

XXI. MINISTRATIONS OF THE SPIRIT— Duplicity in the Bishop 
of Geneva — Ordered to Paris — Stops at Grenoble — Invested with 
apostolic power — Ministers to all classes — Special revelations given 
of their needs — Many spiritual children — Transformed lives — 
Anointed by the Spirit to write — Publication of book on prayer. 
201-216 

XXII. PERILS ON LAND AND SEA— Libelous literature spread- 
Threatening storm — Calm in the midst of robbers — When dangers 
most manifest, faith strongest — Insults and humiliations 217-230 

XXIII. BURSTING OF THE STORM— Circumstances take her to 
Verceil — Souls gained to God — Back to Paris — Designs of enemies 
unveiled — Defamatory libels published— Forged letters — Father La 
Combe imprisoned in the Bastile — Increased persecution accompan- 
ied by increase of spiritual children — Defamed before the king — 
Order given for imprisonment— Confined in St. Mary's in St. 
Antoine 231-247 

XXIV. BONDS AND IMPRISONMENT— Opposition continues— 
Drinking the dregs — At point of death — New snares laid — Released 
from prison through Madam de Maintenon — Daughter married to 
Count de Vaux — First acquaintance with Fenelon — Ministers to 
ladies of the Court — Poisoned by servant — Intrigue and failure — A 
prisoner of Vincennes and the Bastile — Rejoicing in tribulation. 
248-264 

XXV. SPIRITUAL NUGGETS. 265-269 



LOVE CONSTITUTES MY CRIME. 

[' OVE constitutes my crime; 

" For this they keep me here, 
Imprisoned thus so long a time 

For Him I hold so dear; 
And yet I am as when I came, 
The subject of this holy flame. 

How can I better grow! 

How from my own heart fly! 
Those who imprisoned me should know 

True love can never die. 
Yea, tread and crush it with disdain, 
And it will live and burn again. 

And am I then to blame? 

He's always in my sight; 
And having once inspired the flame, 

He's always kept it bright. 
For this they smite me and reprove, 
Because I cannot cease to love. 

What power shall dim its ray, 
Dropped burning from above! 

Eternal life shall ne'er decay, 
God is the life of love. 

And when its source of life is o'er, 

And only then shall shine no more. 



-Madam Ouyon. 



Copyright 1911, 

By Anna C. Reiff. 

(Price, 65 cents; postage, 5 cents. English, 3s.) 



I. EARLY RELIGIOUS IMPRESSIONS. 



AS you thought there were omissions of import- 
ance in the former narration of my life, I 
willingly comply with your desire, in giv- 
ing you a more circumstantial relation; though the 
labor seems rather painful, as I cannot use much study 
or reflection. My earnest wish is to paint in true col- 
ors to your view, the goodness of God to me, and the 
depth of my own ingratitude — but it is impossible, as 
numberless little circumstances have escaped my mem- 
ory, and you are also unwilling I should give you a 
minute account of my sins. I shall, however, try to 
leave out as few faults as possible, and I depend on you 
to destroy it, when your soul hath drawn those spirit- 
ual advantages therefrom, which God intended, and for 
which purpose I am willing to sacrifice all things, being 
fully persuaded of His designs toward you, as well for 
the sanetification of others, as for your own sanctifi- 
cation. 

I was born on the 18th of April, 1648. My parents, 
particularly my father, were extremely pious; but to 
my father it was in a manner hereditary, as many of 
his forefathers were saints. 

My mother, in the eighth month, was accidentally 
frightened, which caused an abortion ; and it is gener- 
ally imagined that a child born in that month cannot 
survive; indeed, I was so excessively ill, immediately 
after my birth, that all about me despaired of my life, 
and were apprehensive I should die without baptism; 
but perceiving some signs of vitality, they ran to 



8 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

acquaint my father, who immediately brought a priest; 
but, on entering the chamber they were told, those 
symptoms which had raised their hopes were only 
expiring struggles, and that all was now over. 

I had no sooner shown signs of life again, than I 
again relapsed, and remained so long in an uncertain 
state, that it was some time before they could find a 
proper opportunity to baptize me, and I continued 
very unhealthy until I was two and a half years old, 
when they sent me to the convent of the Ursulines, 
where I remained a few months. 

On my return, my mother neglected to pay due 
attention to my education. She was not fond of 
daughters, and therefore abandoned me wholly to the 
care of servants; indeed, I should have suffered se- 
verely from their inattention to me, had not an all- 
watchful Providence been my Protector; for through 
the liveliness of my disposition, I met with various 
accidents. I frequently fell into a deep vault that held 
our fire-wood; however, I always escaped unhurt. 

At the age of four I was placed in the Convent of the 
Benedictines, where I was guilty of frequent and dan- 
gerous irregularities, and remember to have committed 
serious faults. Yet I had good examples before me, and 
being naturally well inclined, I quickly followed them, 
when there were none to turn me aside. I loved to 
hear God spoken of, to be at Church, and to be dressed 
in a religious habit. One day I was told of the terrors 
of hell, which I imagined were intended to intimidate 
me, as I was exceedingly lively, and full of a little 
petulant vivacity, which they called wit. The succeed- 
ing night I dreamt of hell, and though I was so young, 
yet time has never since been able to efface the fright- 



EARLY RELIGIOUS IMPRESSIONS 9 

ful ideas which were then impressed upon my imagina- 
tion. All appeared horrible darkness, where souls 
were punished, and my place amongst them was 
pointed out. At this I wept bitterly, and cried, "Oh, 
my God, if Thou wilt have mercy upon me, and spare 
me yet a little longer, I will never more offend Thee." 
And Thou didst, Lord, in mercy hearken unto my 
cry, and pour upon me strength and courage to serve 
Thee, in an uncommon manner for one of my age. I 
wanted to go privately to confession, but being so 
little, the mistress of the boarders carried me to the 
priest, and stayed with me while I was heard singly; 
but she was much astonished when I came to mention 
that I had suggestions against the faith, and the con- 
fessor began to laugh, and enquire what they were. I 
told him that till then I had doubted there was such a 
place as hell, and supposed my mistress had spoken of 
it merely to make me good, but that now my doubts 
were all removed. After confession my heart glowed 
with a kind of fervor, and at one time I felt a desire to 
suffer martyrdom. 

At my solicitation, and on account of my falling so 
frequently sick, I was at length taken home; but not 
without having met a variety of little crosses, propor- 
tioned to my age. On my return, my mother having a 
maid in whom she placed confidence, left me again to 
the care of servants. I must here mention it as a great 
fault, of which mothers are guilty, when under pretext 
of external devotions, or other engagements, they suf- 
fer their daughters to be absent from them ; nor can I 
forbear condemning that unjust partiality with which 
parents treat some of their children. It is frequently 
productive of divisions in families, and even the ruin 



10 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

of some; whereas impartiality, by uniting children's 
hearts together, lays the foundation of lasting har- 
mony and unanimity. 

My father, who loved me tenderly, seeing how little 
my education was attended to, sent me to a convent 
of the Ursulines. I was then near seven years old. In 
this house were two half sisters of mine, the one by 
my father, the other by my mother. My father placed 
me under his daughter's care, whom I may afl&rm to 
be a person of the greatest capacity and most exalted 
piety, and excellently qualified for the instruction of 
youth. This was a singular dispensation of God's 
providence and love towards me, and proved the first 
means of my salvation. She loved me tenderly, and 
her affection made her discover in me many amiable 
qualities, which the Lord of great goodness had 
implanted in me. She endeavored to improve these 
good qualities, and I believe that had I continued in 
such careful hands, I should have acquired as many 
virtuous habits as I afterwards contracted evil ones. 

This good sister employed her time in instructing 
me in piety, and in such branches of learning as were 
suitable to my age and capacity. She had good 
talents, and improved them well; was frequent in 
prayer, and her faith was as great as that of most 
persons. She denied herself every other pleasure, to 
be with me and instruct me. Nay, such was her 
affection for me, that it made her find, as she told me, 
more pleasure with me than anywhere else. 

If I made her agreeable answers, though more from 
chance than from judgment, she thought herself well 
paid for all her labor. In short, under her care I 
soon became mistress of most studies suitable for me, 



EARLY RELIGIOUS IMPRESSIONS 11 

insomuch that many grown persons of rank could not 
have answered the questions which I did. 

As my father often sent for me, desiring to see me 
at home, I found at one time the Queen of England 
there. I was then near eight years of age. My father 
told the Queen's confessor, that if he wanted a little 
amusement, he might entertain himself with me, and 
propound some questions to me. He tried me with 
several very difficult ones, to which I returned such 
pertinent answers, that he carried me to the Queen, 
and said to her, "Your majesty must have some diver- 
sion with this child." She also tried me, and was so 
well pleased with my lively answers and my manners, 
that she demanded me of my father with no small 
importunity, assuring him that she would take particu- 
lar care of me, designing me for maid of honor to the 
princess. But my father resisted so far as to disoblige 
her. Doubtless it was God who caused this refusal, 
and thereby turned off the stroke which might have 
probably intercepted my salvation; for being so weak 
as I was, how could I have withstood the temptations 
and distractions of a Court? 

I went back to the Ursulines, where my good sister 
continued her affection. But as she was not the mis- 
tress of the boarders, and I was obliged sometimes to 
go along with them, I contracted bad habits. I be- 
came addicted to lying, peevishness and indevotion, 
passing whole days without thinking on God; though 
He watched continually over me, as the sequel will 
manifest. I did not remain long under the power of 
such vicious habits, for my sister's care recovered me. 
I loved much to hear of God, was not weary of Church, 
loved to pray, had tenderness for the poor, and a 



12 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

natural dislike for persons whose doctrine was judged 
unsound. God has always continued to me this grace, 
in the midst of my greatest infidelities. 

There was at the end of the garden connected 
with this convent, a little chapel dedicated to the child 
Jesus. To this I betook myself for devotion; and, for 
some time, carrying my breakfast thither every morn- 
ing, I hid it all behind His image ; for I was so much a 
child, that I thought I made a considerable sacrifice in 
depriving myself of it. Being also delicate in my 
choice of food, I wished to mortify myself, but found 
self-love still too prevalent, to submit to such mortifica- 
tion. After this, when they were cleaning out this 
chapel, they found behind the image what I had left 
there, and presently guessed that it was I, as they had 
seen me every day going thither. I believe that God, 
who lets nothing pass without a recompense, soon 
rewarded me with interest for this little infantine 
devotion. 

I continued some time with my sister, where I re- 
tained the love and fear of God. My life was easy; 
I was educated agreeably with her. I improved much 
while I had my health ; but very often I was sick, and 
seized with maladies as sudden as they were uncom- 
mon. In the evening well, and in the morning swelled 
and full of bluish marks, symptoms of a fever which 
soon followed. At nine years of age, I was taken with 
so violent a fit of hemorrhage, that they thought I was 
going to die. I was rendered exceedingly weak 
thereby. 

A little before this severe attack, my other sister 
became jealous, wanting to have me in her turn. 
Though she led a good life, yet she had not a talent 



EARLY RELIGIOUS IMPRESSIONS 13 

for the education of children. At first she caressed me 
much; but all her caresses made no impression upon 
my heart. My other sister did more with a look, than 
she with either caresses or threatenings. As she saw 
that I loved her not so well as the other, she changed 
her fondling to rigorous treatment. She would not 
allow me to speak to my other sister; and when she 
knew I had spoken to her, she had me whipped, or else 
beat me herself. I could no longer hold out against 
such severe usage, and therefore requited with appa- 
rent ingratitude all the favors of my paternal sister, 
going no more to see her. But this did not hinder her 
from giving me marks of her usual goodness, in the 
severe malady just mentioned. She kindly construed 
my ingratitude to be rather owing to my fear of chas- 
tisement, than to a bad heart. Indeed, I believe this 
was the only instance in which fear of chastisement 
operated so powerfully upon me, for, from that time I 
suffered more in occasioning pain to one I loved, than 
in suffering myself at their hand. Thou knowest, 
my Beloved, that it was not the dread of Thy chas- 
tisements that sunk so deep, either into my under- 
standing or my heart ; it was the sorrow for offending 
Thee which ever constituted the whole of my distress ; 
whieh was so great, that I imagine if there were neither 
heaven nor hell I should always have retained the 
same fear of displeasing Thee. Thou knowest that after 
my faults, when, in forgiving mercy, Thou wert pleased 
to visit my soul, Thy caresses were a thousand-fold 
more insupportable than Thy rod. 

My father being informed of all that passed, took 
me home again. I was at that time near ten years of 
age. I stayed only a little while at home, for a nun of 



14 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

the order of St. Dominie, of a great family, and one of 
my father's intimate friends, solicited him to place me 
in her convent, of which she was the prioress, promis- 
ing she would take care of me herself, and make me 
lodge in her own chamber, for this lady had conceived 
a great affection for me. But she was so taken up 
with her community, in which many troublesome 
events occurred, that she was not at liberty to take 
much care of me. Here I had the chicken-pox, which 
mjade me keep my bed three weeks, in which I had 
very bad attendance, though my father and mother 
thought I was under excellent care. The ladies of the 
house had such a dread of the small-pox, as they imag- 
ined mine to be, that they durst not come near me. 
I passed almost all the time without seeing anybody 
but a lay-sister, who only brought me my allowance of 
diet at the set hours, and then immediately went off 
again. I providentially found a Bible in my chamber, 
and having both a fondness for reading and a happy 
memory, I spent whole days in reading it from morning 
to night, and learned entirely the historical part. Yet, 
I was really very unhappy in this house ; for the other 
boarders, being large girls, distressed me with very 
grievous persecutions. I was so much neglected, as to 
food, that I fell away, and became quite emaciated. 
Several other crosses I had, which were very hard for 
me to bear. 






II. CONFLICTS IN YOUTH. 



AFTER having been here about eight months, 
my father took me home again. My mother 
kept me more with her, beginning to have 
a higher regard for me than before; yet she still 
preferred my brother, which was so visible, that every 
one spoke of it with dislike. Even when I was sick and 
met with anything I liked, he demanded it. It was 
then taken from me, and given to him, though he was 
in perfectly good health. He was continually giving 
me new vexations. One day he made me mount upon 
the top of the coach ; when he had done that, he threw 
me down on the ground, and by the fall I was very 
much bruised. At other times he beat me. But what- 
ever he did, however wrong, it was w T inked at, or 
had the most favorable construction put upon it. This 
conduct soured my temper. I had little disposition to 
do good, saying I was never the better for it. It was 
not then for Thee alone, God, that I did good ; since I 
ceased to do it, when it met not with such a reception 
from others as I wanted. Had I known how to make 
a right use of this Thy crucifying conduct toward me, 
I should have made a good progress. Far from turn- 
ing me out of the way, it would have made me turn 
more wholly to Thee. 

I looked with jealous eyes on my brother, seeing 
the difference made betwixt him and me. Whatever 
he did was considered well ; but if there was blame, it 
fell on me. My step-sisters by the mother, gained 
her good will by caressing him and persecuting me. It 



16 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

is true, I was bad. I relapsed into my former faults of 
lying and peevishness. With all these faults I was 
very tender and charitable to the poor, prayed to God 
assiduously, loved to hear any one speak of Him, and 
to read good books. 

I doubt not that you will be amazed at such a 
series of inconsistencies; but what succeeds will sur- 
prise you yet more, when you see this manner of 
acting gain ground with my years, and that as my 
reason ripened, it was so far from correcting such 
irrational conduct, that sin grew more powerful in 
me. my God, Thy grace seemed to be redoubled 
in proportion to the increase of my ingratitude. 

I cannot bear to hear it said, "We are not free tc 
resist grace." I have had too long and fatal an expe- 
rience of my liberty. I closed up the avenues of my 
heart, that I might not so much as hear that secret 
voice of God, which was calling me to Himself. I have 
indeed, from my tenderest youth, passed through 
series of grievances, either by maladies or by persecu- 
tions. The girl to whose care my mother left me, 
dressing my head used to beat me, and did not make 
me turn it but with rage and blows. Everything 
seemed in concert to punish me, but this instead of 
making me turn unto Thee, my God, only served to 
afflict and embitter my mind. My father knew noth- 
ing of all this, for his love to me was such that he 
would not have suffered it. I loved him very much, 
but at the same time I feared him, so that I told him 
nothing of it. My mother was often teasing him with 
complaints of me, to which he made no other reply 
than, "There are twelve hours in the day; she'll grow l 
wiser.' ' This rigorous proceeding was not the worst i 



CONFLICTS IN YO UTH 17 

for my soul, though it soured my temper, which was 
otherwise mild and easy. But what caused my great- 
est hurt was, that not being able to endure those who 
treated me ill, I chose to be among those who caressed 
me, in order to corrupt and spoil me. 

My father, seeing I was now grown pretty tall, 
placed me in Lent among the Ursulines, to receive my 
first communion at Easter, at which time I was to 
complete my eleventh year. And here my most dear 
sister, under whose inspection my father placed me, 
redoubled her cares, to cause me to make the best 
preparation possible for this act of devotion. I thought 
now of giving myself to God in good earnest. I often 
felt a combat between my good inclinations and my 
bad habits. I even did some penances. As I was 
almost always with my sister, and as the boarders in 
her class, which was the first, were very reasonable 
and civil, I became such also, while among them. It 
had been cruel to educate me badly; for my very 
nature was strongly disposed to goodness, and I loved 
everything that tended thereto. Easily won with 
mildness, I did with pleasure whatever my good sister 
desired. At length Easter arrived, and I received the 
communion with much joy and devotion. 

As I now grew very tall for my age, and more to 
my mother's liking than before, she took care to deck 
and dress me out, to make me see company, and to 
take me abroad with her. She took an inordinate 
pride in that beauty with which God had formed me 
only to bless and praise Him, which, however, was per- 
verted by me into a source of pride and vanity: Sev- 
eral suitors offered to me ; but as I was not yet twelve 
years of age, my father would not listen to any pro- 



18 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

posals. I loved reading much, and shut myself up 
alone every day to read without interruption. 

What proved effectual to gain me over entirely to 
God, at least for a time, was that a nephew of my 
father's passed by our house, going on a mission to 
Cochin, China. I happened at that time to be taking 
a walk with my companions, which I seldom did. At 
my return he was gone. They gave me an account of 
his sanctity, and the things he had said. I was so 
touched therewith, that I was overcome with sorrow. I 
cried all the rest of the day and of the night. Early in 
the morning, I went in great distress to seek my con- 
fessor. I said to him, "What! my father, am I the 
only person in our family to be lost? Alas! help me in 
my salvation." He was greatly surprised to see me so 
much afflicted, and comforted me in the best manner 
he could, not thinking me so bad as I was; for in the 
midst of my backslidings I was docile, punctual in 
obedience, careful to confess often, and since I went 
to him my life was more regular. Oh, Thou God of 
love, how often hast Thou knocked at the door of my 
heart! how often terrified me with appearances of 
sudden death! Yet all these only made a transient 
impression. I presently returned again to my infidel- 
ities; but this time Thou didst take, and I may say 
quite carried off my heart. 

I immediately applied myself to every part of my 
duty. I made a general confession with great com- 
punction of heart. I frankly confessed all that I 
knew with many tears. I became so changed that I was 
scarce to be known. I would not for ever so much 
have made the least voluntary slip, and they found 
not any matter for absolution when I confessed.^ I 



CONFLICTS IN YO UTH 19 

discovered the very smallest faults, and God did mte 
the favor to enable me to conquer myself in many 
things. There were left only some remains of passion, 
which gave me some trouble to conquer. But as soon 
as I had by means thereof, given any displeasure, even 
to the domestics, I begged their pardon, in order to 
subdue at the same time, my wrath and pride, for 
wrath is the daughter of pride. A person truly hum- 
bled suffers not anything to put him in a rage. As it 
is pride which dies the last in the soul, so it is passion 
which is last destroyed in the outward conduct. A 
soul thoroughly annihilated, or dead to itself, finds 
nothing of rage left. 

I followed my religious exercises. I shut myself 
up all the day to read and pray. I gave all I had to 
the poor, taking even linen to their houses to make 
them necessaries. I taught them the catechism; and, 
when my parents dined abroad, I made them eat with 
me, and served them with great respect. I read the 
works of St. Francis de Sales and the life of Madam 
de Chantal. There I first learnt what mental prayer 
was, and I besought my confessor to teach me that 
kind of prayer, but as he did not, I used my own en- 
deavors to practice it, though without success, as I 
then thought, because I could not exercise the imagi- 
nation; and persuaded myself, that that prayer could 
not be made without forming to one 's self certain ideas 
and reasoning much. The difficulty gave me no small 
trouble, for a long time. I was nevertheless very 
assiduous therein, and prayed earnestly to God to give 
me the gift of prayer. All that I saw in the life of M. 
de Chantal charmed me; and I was so much a child, 
that I thought I ought to do everything I saw in it. 



20 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

All the vows she had made I made also, as that of 
ever aiming at the highest perfection, and of doing 
the wall of God in everything. 

After this, I turned all my thoughts to become a 
nun, very often going to the visitation; because the 
love which I had for St. Francis de Sales did not per- 
mit me to think of any other community than this of 
which he was the founder. I frequently went to beg 
the nuns there to receive me into their convent. Often 
I stole out of my father's house to go thither, and 
repeatedly solicited them to consent to my admission. 
But, though it was what they eagerly desired, even as 
a temporal advantage, yet they never durst let me 
enter their house, as they very much feared my father, 
whose fondness for me they were no strangers to. 
There was then at that house a niece of my father's, to 
whom I am under great obligations. Fortune had not 
been very favorable to her father, and had reduced her 
in some measure to depend on mine, to whom she 
made known my inclination. Although he would not 
for anything in the world have hindered a right voca- 
tion, yet he could not hear of my design without shed- 
ding tears. But as he happened at this time to be 
abroad, my cousin went to my confessor, to desire him 
to forbid my going to the visitation. He durst not, 
however, do it plainly, for fear of drawing on himself 
the resentment of that community. Yet I still wanted 
to be a nun, and importuned my mother excessively 
to take me to that house, but she would not do it, for 
fear of grieving my father, who was yet absent. 



III. LAPSINGS AND INCONSISTENCIES. 



NO sooner was my father returned home, than 
he fell into a violent illness. My mother was 
at the same time indisposed in another 
part of the house. I was then all alone with him, 
ready to render him every kind of service I was capa- 
ble of, and to give him all the dutiful marks of a most 
sincere affection. And I do not doubt but my assidu- 
ity was very agreeable to him. I performed the most 
menial offices unperceived by him, taking the time for 
it when the servants were not at hand, as well to 
mortify myself as to pay due honor to what Jesus 
Christ said, that He came not to be ministered to, but 
to minister. When he made me read to him, I read 
with such heart-felt devotion that he was surprised 
at it. I remembered the instruction my sister had 
given me, and the ejaculatory prayers and praises I 
had learned from her. She had taught me to praise 
Thee, my God, in all Thy works. All that I saw 
called upon me to render Thee homage. 

My cousin aforementioned helped not a little to 
support me in these good sentiments; for I was often 
with her, and loved her, as she took great care of 
me, and treated me with much gentleness. Her for- 
tune being equal neither to her birth nor her virtue, 
she did with charity and affection what her condition 
obliged her to. My mother grew jealous, fearing I 
should love my cousin too well and herself too little. 
She who had left me in my young years to the care of 
her maids, and since that to my own, only inquiring if 



22 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

I was in the house and troubling herself no further, 
now required me always to stay with her, and never 
suffered me to be with my cousin but with very great 
reluctance. My cousin fell ill; she took that occasion 
to send her home, which was a very severe stroke to 
my heart, as well as to that grace which began to 
dawn in mle. 

Though my mother acted thus, she was a very vir- 
tuous woman. But God permitted it for my exercise. 
She was one of the most charitable women of her age. 
She not only gave away the surplus, but even the nec- 
essaries of the house. Never were the needy neglected 
by her. Never any wretch came to her without suc- 
cor. She furnished poor mechanics wherewith to carry 
on their work, and needy tradesmen wherewith to sup- 
ply their shops. From her, I think, I inherited my 
charity and love for the poor; for God favored me 
with the blessing of being her successor in that holy 
exercise. There was not one in the town, or its en- 
virons, who did not praise her for this great virtue. 
She has sometimes given to the last penny in the 
house, though she had so large a family to maintain, 
and yet she did not fail in her faith. 

After my cousin left me I continued for some time 
in those sentiments of piety I have mentioned. And 
God granted me the grace to forgive injuries with 
such readiness, that my confessor was surprised ; as he 
knew that some young ladies had, out of envy, tra- 
duced me; and that I spoke well of them as occasion 
offered. 

Near a twelvemonth after, we went to pass some 
days in the country. My father took along with us 
one of his relations, a very accomplished young gen- 



LAPSINGS AND INCONSISTENCIES 23 

tleman. He had a great desire to marry me, but my 
father, who had resolved not to give me to any near 
kinsman, on account of the difficulty of obtaining dis- 
pensations, put him off. As this young gentleman was 
very devout, and every day said the office of the Vir- 
gin, I said it with him, and to have time for it, left off 
prayer, which was to me the first inlet of evils. Yet, I 
kept up for a long time some share of the spirit of 
piety; for I went to seek out the little shepherdesses, 
to instruct them in their religious duty. Yet this 
spirit gradually decayed, not being nourished by 
prayer. Hereby I became cold toward God. All my 
old faults revived, to which I added an excessive van- 
ity. The love I began to have for myself, extinguished 
what remained in me of the love of God. 

I did not wholly leave off mental prayer, with- 
out asking my confessor's leave. I told him I thought 
it better to say the office of the Virgin every day, than 
to practice prayer, as I had not time for both. I saw 
not that this was a stratagem of the enemy to draw me 
from God, and to entangle me in the snares he had 
laid for me. In truth I had time sufficient for both, as 
I had no other occupation than what I prescribed to 
myself. My confessor was easy in the matter; not 
being a man of prayer, he gave his consent, to my 
great hurt. 

Oh, my God, if the value of prayer were but known, 
the great advantage which accrues to the soul from 
conversing with Thee, and what consequence it is of to 
salvation, everyone would be assiduous in it. It is a 
stronghold into which the enemy cannot enter. He 
may attack it, besiege it, make a noise about its walls, 
but while we are faithful and hold our station, he can- 



24 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

not hurt us. It is alike requisite to dictate to children 
the necessity of prayer as of their salvation ; but alas ! 
unhappily, it is thought sufficient to tell them that 
there is a heaven and a hell ; that they must endeavor 
to avoid the latter and attain the former ; and yet they 
are not taught the shortest and easiest way of arriving 
at it. The only way to heaven is prayer; a prayer of 
the heart, which every one is capable of, and not of 
reasonings which are the fruits of study, or exercise of 
the imagination, which, in filling the mind with wan- 
dering objects, rarely settle it; and instead of warming 
the heart with love to God, leave it cold and languish- 
ing. Let the poor come, let the ignorant and carnal 
come; let the children without reason or knowledge 
come, let the dull or hard hearts which can retain 
nothing come to the practice of prayer, and they shall 
become wise. But if you quit it, alas ! the enemy has 
the ascendant. He will give you of his poisoned 
draughts, which may have an apparent sweetness, but 
will assuredly rob you of life. 

Thus, I forsook the fountain of living water when 
I left off prayer. I became as a vineyard exposed to 
pillage, whose hedges torn down give liberty to all the 
passengers to ravage it. I began to seek in the crea- 
ture what I had found in God. He left me to myself, 
because 'I first left Him ; and it was His will by permit- 
ting me to sink into the horrible pit, to miake me feel 
the necessity I was in of approaching Him in prayer. 
Thou hast said, that Thou wilt destroy those adulter- 
ous souls who depart from Thee. Alas ! it is their de- 
parture alone which causes their destruction, since in 
departing from Thee, Sun of Kighteousness, they 
enter into the regions of darkness and the coldness of 



LAPSINGS AND INCONSISTENCIES 25 

death, from which they would never rise, if Thou didst 
not revisit them ; if Thou didst not by Thy divine light, 
illuminate their darkness, and by Thy enlivening 
warmth, melt their icy hearts, and restore them to life. 

I fell then into the greatest of all misfortunes; for 
I wandered yet further and further from Thee, my 
God, and Thou didst gradually retire from a heart 
which had quitted Thee. Yet such is Thy goodness, 
that it seemed as if Thou hadst left me w r ith regret; 
and when this heart was desirous to return again unto 
Thee, with what speed didst Thou come to meet it. 
This proof of Thy love and mercy, shall be to me an 
everlasting testimony of Thy goodness and of my own 
ingratitude. 

I became still more passionate than I had ever 
been, as age gave more force to nature. I was fre- 
quently guilty of lying; I felt my heart corrupt and 
vain; the spark of divine grace was almost extin- 
guished in me, and I fell into a state of indifference 
and indevotion ; though I still carefully kept up outside 
appearances ; and the habit I had acquired of behaving 
at Church, made me appear better than I was. Vanity, 
which had been excluded from my heart, now resumed 
its seat. I began to pass a great part of my time be- 
fore a looking-glass. I found so much pleasure in 
viewing myself therein, that I thought others were in 
the right who practiced the same. Instead of making 
use of this exterior, which God had given me, that I 
might love Him the more, it became to me only the 
means of a vain complacency. All seemed to me to 
look beautiful in my person, but I saw not that it cov- 
ered a polluted soul. This rendered me so inwardly 
vain, that I doubt whether any ever exceeded me 



26 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

therein; but there was an affected modesty in my out- 
ward deportment that would have deceived the world. 

The high esteem I had for myself made me find 
faults in everyone else of my own sex. I had no eyes 
but to see my own good qualities, and to discover 
the defects of others. I hid my own faults from my- 
self, or if I remarked any, yet to me they appeared lit- 
tle in comparison of others. I excused, and even fig- 
ured them to myself as perfections. Every idea I had 
of others and of myself was false. I loved reading to 
such excess, particularly romances, that I spent whole 
days and nights at them; sometimes the day broke 
whilst I continued to read, insomuch, that for a length 
of time I almost lost the habit of sleeping. I was ever 
eager to get to the end of the book, in hopes of finding 
something to satisfy a certain craving which I found 
within me, but my thirst for reading was only in- 
creased the more I read. These books are strange in- 
ventions to destroy youth ; for if they caused no other 
hurt than the loss of our precious time, is not that too 
much ? I was not restrained, but rather encouraged to 
read them under this fallacious pretext — that they 
taught one to speak well. 

Meanwhile, through Thy abundant mercy, my 
God, Thou earnest to seek me from time to time. Thou 
didst indeed knock at the door of my heart, — I was 
often penetrated with the most lively sorrow and shed 
abundance of tears, — I was afflicted to find my state so 
different from what it was when I enjoyed Thy sacred 
presence ; but my tears were fruitless and my grief in 
vain. I could not of myself get out of this wretched 
state. I wished some hand as charitable as powerful 
would extricate me, but as for myself I had no power. 






LAPSINGS AND INCONSISTENCIES 27 

If I had had any friend, who would have examined the 
cause of this evil, and made me have recourse again to 
prayer, which was the only means of relief, all would 
have been well. I was (like the prophet) in a deep 
abyss of mire, which I could not get out of. I met 
with reprimands for being in it, but none were kind 
enough to reach out a helping hand to free me. And 
when I tried vain efforts to get out, I only sunk the 
deeper, and each fruitless attempt only made me see 
my own impotence, and rendered me more afflicted. 

Oh, how much compassion has this sad experience 
given me for sinners, as it has taught me why so 
few of them emerge from the miserable state into 
which they have fallen. The only true remedy for 
them is prayer; to present themselves before God as 
criminals; and to beg strength of Him to rise out of 
this state. Then would they soon be changed, and 
brought out of the mire and clay. But the devil has 
falsely persuaded the doctors and the wise men of the 
age, that, in order to pray, it is necessary first to be 
perfectly converted. Hence people are dissuaded from 
it, and hence there is rarely any conversion that is 
durable. The devil is outrageous only against prayer, 
and those that exercise it; because he knows it is the 
true means of taking his prey from him. No sooner 
does one enter into a spiritual life, a life of prayer, but 
they must prepare for strange crosses; as all manner 
of persecutions and contempts in this world are re- 
served for that life. 

Miserable as the condition was to which I was re- 
duced by my infidelities, and the little help I had 
from my confessor, I did not fail to say my vocal 
prayers every day, to confess pretty often, and to par- 



28 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

take of the communion almost every fortnight. I loved 
to hear anyone speak of God, and would never tire of 
the conversation. When my father spoke of Him, I was 
transported with joy; and when he and my mother 
went on any pilgrimage, and were to set off early in 
the morning, I either did not go to bed the night 
before, or hired the girls to wake me early. My father's 
conversation at such times was always of divine mat- 
ters, which afforded me the highest delight, and I pre- 
ferred that subject to any other. I also loved the 
poor, and was charitable, even whilst I was so very 
faulty as I have described. How strange may this 
seem to some, and how hard to reconcile things so 
very opposite. 



IV. BEGINNING OP SORROWS. 



AFTERWARDS we came to Paris, where my 
vanity increased. No course was spared to 
make me appear to advantage. I was for- 
ward enough to show myself and expose my pride, 
in making a parade of this vain beauty, wanting to be 
loved of everyone and to love none. Several appar- 
ently advantageous offers of marriage were made for 
me ; but God, unwilling to have me lost, did not permit 
matters to succeed. My father still found difficulties, 
which my all- wise Creator raised for my salvation; 
for had I married any of these persons, I should have 
been much exposed, and my vanity would have had 
means to extend itself in a wider circle. 

There was one person who had asked for me in 
marriage for several years, whom my father, for fam- 
ily reasons, had always refused. His manners were 
opposite to my vanity. But, a fear lest I should leave 
my country, together with the affluent circumstances 
of this gentleman, induced my father, in spite of both 
his own and my mother's reluctance, to promise me to 
him; which was done without consulting me. They 
made me sign the marriage articles without letting me 
know what they were ; though I was well pleased with 
the thoughts of marriage, flattering myself with a hope 
of being thereby set at full liberty, and delivered from 
the ill-treatment of my mother, which I drew upon 
myself by want of docility. Yet God ordered it far 
otherwise; and the condition which I found myself 



30 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

in afterwards, frustrated my hopes, as I shall show in 
the sequel. 

Pleasing as my marriage was to my thoughts, I was 
all the time, after my being promised, and even long 
after my marriage, in extreme confusion, which arose 
from two causes : The first was my natural modesty, 
which I did not lose. I had much reserve towards 
men. The other was my vanity; for though the hus- 
band provided was a more advantageous match than I 
merited, yet I did not think him such. And the figure 
which the others made, who had offered to me before, 
was vastly more engaging. Their rank would have 
placed me in view. And as I consulted in these things, 
nothing but my vanity, whatever did not flatter that, 
was to me insupportable. Yet this very vanity was, 
I think, of some advantage to me; for it hindered me 
from falling into such things as cause ruin of families. 
I would not do anything which in the eye of the world 
might render me culpable ; so strictly did I guard my 
exterior conduct. As I was modest at Church, and 
had not been used to go abroad without my mother. 
and as the reputation of our house was great, I passed 
for virtuous. 

I did not see my spouse elect (at Paris) till two or 
three days before our marriage. I caused masses to 
be said all the time after my being contracted, to know 
the will of God, as I wished to do it in this affair, at 
least. Oh, my God, how great was Thy goodness, to bear 
with me at this time, and to allow me to pray to Thee 
with as much boldness, as if I had been one of Thy 
friends, I who had rebelled against Thee as Thy great- 
est enemy. 



BEGINNING OF SORROWS 31 

The joy of our nuptials was universal through our 
village. Amidst this general rejoicing, there appeared 
none sad but myself. I could neither laugh as others 
did, nor even eat ; so much was I depressed, though as 
yet I knew not the cause. But it was a foretaste 
which God gave me of what was to befall me. The 
remembrance of the desire I had of being a nun, came 
pouring in upon m)e. All who came to compliment 
me, the day after, could not forbear, rallying me, 
because I wept bitterly. I answered them: "Alas! I 
had desired so much to be a nun ; why then am I now 
married ? And by what fatality has such a revolution 
befallen me?" No sooner was I at the house of my 
new spouse, than I perceived that it would be for me 
a house of mourning. 

I was obliged here to change my conduct, for their 
manner of living was very different from that in my 
father's house. My mother-in-law, who had long been 
a widow, regarded nothing else but economy ; whereas, 
at my father's house they lived in a noble manner, and 
great elegance ; and what my husband and mother-in- 
law called pride, and I called politeness, was observed 
there. I was very much surprised at this change, and 
so much the more, as my vanity wished to increase, 
rather than to be diminished. 

At the time of my marriage I was a little past 
fifteen years of age. My surprise increased greatly, 
when I saw I must lose what I had acquired with so 
much application. At my father's house we were 
obliged to behave in a genteel way, and to speak with 
propriety. There all that I said was applauded. Here 
they never hearkened to me, but to contradict and find 
fault. If I spoke well, they said it was to give them 



32 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

a lesson. If any questions were started at my father's, 
he encouraged me to speak freely on such occasions; 
but here, if I spoke my sentiments, they said it was to 
enter into a dispute. They put me to silence in an 
abrupt and shameful manner, and scolded me from 
morning till night. 

I should have some difficulty to give you an account 
of such matters, if you had not forbidden me to omit 
any one article. But I request you not to look at 
things on the side of the creature, which would make 
these persons appear worse than they were; for my 
mother-in-law had virtue, my husband had religion, 
and not any vice. It is requisite to look at everything 
on the side of GTod, who permitted these things only 
for my salvation, and because He would not have me 
lost. I had beside so much pride, that had I received 
any other treatment, I should have continued therein, 
and should not, perhaps, have turned to God, as I was 
afterwards induced to do, by the oppression of a mul- 
titude of crosses. 

To return to my subject, my mother-in-law conceived 
such a desire to oppose me in everything, that, 
in order to vex me, she made me perform the most 
humiliating offices; for her humor was so extraordi- 
nary, having never surmounted it in her youth, that 
she could hardly live with anybody. Saying no other 
than vocal prayers, she did not see this kind of fault ; 
or seeing it, and not drawing from the forces of 
prayer, she could not get the better of it. I was then 
made the victim of her humors. All her occupation 
was to thwart me continually, and she inspired the 
like sentiments into her son. They would make per- 
sons far my inferiors take place above me. My 



I 



BEGINNING OF SORROWS 33 

mother, who had a high sense of honor, could not 
endure that. And when she heard it from others (for 
I told her nothing of it) she chided me, thinking I did 
it, not knowing how to keep my rank, and that I had 
no spirit; and upbraided me with many other things 
of that sort. I durst not tell her how it was with me, 
but I was almost ready to die with the agonies of 
grief and continual vexation. And what aggravated 
them all, was the remembrance of the persons who 
had proposed for me, the difference of their humor 
and manners, the love they had for me with their 
agreeableness and politeness. All this made my pres- 
ent position very doleful, and my burden intolerable. 
My mother-in-law upbraided me in regard to my fam- 
ily, and spoke to me incessantly to the disadvantage 
of my father and mother. I never went to see them, 
but I had some bitter speeches to bear on my return. 

On the other hand, my mother complained that I 
did not come often enough to see her. She said I did 
not love her, that I was alienated from my own fam- 
ily, by being too much attached to my husband; so 
that I had a great deal of heavy suffering to undergo 
on both sides. 

What still augmented my crosses was, that my 
mother related to my mother-in-law the pains I had 
cost her from my infancy. After which they reproached 
me, saying, I was a changeling, and an evil spirit. My 
husband obliged me to stay all ijight long in my mother- 
in-law's room, without any liberty of retiring into my 
own apartment, so that I had not a moment's respite 
to breathe a little. She spoke disadvantageously of 
me to everybody, to lessen the affection and esteem 
which some had entertained for me, and galled me 



34 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

with the grossest affronts before the finest company. 
This had not the effect she wanted, for the more 
patiently they saw me bear it, the higher esteem they 
had for me. 

Indeed, she found the secret of extinguishing my 
vivacity, and rendering me stupid ; so that some of my 
former acquaintances hardly knew me. Those who 
had not seen me before, said, "Is this the person 
famed for such abundance of wit? She can't say two 
words. She's a fine picture." I was not yet sixteen 
years old. I was so much intimidated, that I durst not 
go out without my mother-in-law, and in her presence I 
could not speak. I knew not what I said, so much fear 
had I of putting her out of humor, and drawing some 
bitter speech on myself. 

To complete my affliction, they presented me with 
a waiting-maid who was everything with them. She 
kept me in sight like a governess, and treated me in a 
strange manner. For the most part I bore with 
patience these evils which I had no way to avoid. But 
sometimes I let some hasty answer escape me, which 
was a source of grievous crosses to me, and violent 
reproaches for a long time together. When I went 
out, the footman had orders to give an account of 
everything I did. It was then I began to eat the bread 
of sorrows, and to mingle tears with my drink. At 
the table they always did something to me which cov- 
ered me with confusion, I could not forbear tears, and 
tlhence had a double confusion, — one for what they 
said to me, and the other for not being able to refrain 
from weeping. I had no one to confide in who might 
share my affliction, and assist me to bear it. When I 
would impart some hint of it to my mother, I drew 



BEGINNING OF SORROWS 35 

upon myself new crosses, so that I resolved to have no 
confidant of my trouble. It was not from any natural 
cruelty that my husband treated me thus ; for he loved 
me even passionately, but he was warm and hasty, and 
my mother-in-law continually irritated him about me. 

It was in a condition so deplorable, my God, that 
I began to perceive the need I had of Thy assistance. 
For this situation was perilous to me, as I met with 
none but admirers abroad, and such as flattered me to 
my hurt, it were to be feared, lest at such a tender age, 
amidst all the strange domestic crosses I had to bear, 
I might be drawn away. But Thou, by Thy goodness 
and love, gave it quite another turn. By these re- 
doubled strokes Thou didst draw me to Thyself, and 
by Thy crosses effected what Thy caresses could not 
effect. Nay, even then Thou madest use of my natural 
pride, to keep me within the limits of my duty. I 
knew that a woman of honor ought never to give sus- 
picion to her husband. I was so very circumspect on 
that head, that I often carried it to excess. 

Such weighty crosses made me return to God. I 
began to deplore the sins of my youth; for since my 
marriage I had not committed any voluntarily. Yet 
I still had some sentiments of vanity remaining, which 
I wished not to have. However, my troubles now coun- 
ter-balanced them. Moreover, many of them appeared 
my just desert according to the little light I then had ; 
for I was not illuminated to penetrate the essence of 
my vanity; I fixed my thoughts only on its appear- 
ance. I tried to amend my life by penance, and by 
a general confession, the most exact that I ever yet 
had made. I laid aside the reading of romances, for 
Which I lately had such a fondness. Though some 



36 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

time before my marriage it had been dampened by- 
reading the Gospel, I was so much affected therewith, 
and discovered that character of truth therein, as to put 
me out of conceit with all the other books. Novels 
appeared then to me only full of lies and deceit. I 
now put away even indifferent books, to have none but 
such as were profitable. I resumed the practice of 
prayer, and endeavored to offend my God no more. 
I felt His love gradually recovering the ascendant in 
my heart, and banishing every other. Yet I had still 
an intolerable vanity and self-complacency, which has 
been my most grievous and obstinate sin. 

My crosses redoubled every day. "What rendered 
them more painful was, that my mother-in-law, not 
content with the bitterest speeches which she uttered 
against me, both in public and private, would break 
out in a passion about the smallest trifles, and scarcely 
be pacified for a fortnight together. I passed a part 
of my time in bewailing myself when I could be alone ; 
and my grief became every day more bitter. Some- 
times I could not contain myself, when the girls, who 
were my domestics, and owed me submission, treated 
me so ill. Nevertheless, I did what I could to subdue 
my temper, which has cost me not a little. 

Such stunning blows so impaired the vivacity of my 
nature, that I became like a lamb that is shorn. I 
prayed to our Lord to assist me, and He was my ref- 
uge. As my age differed from theirs (for my husband 
was twenty-two years older than I) I saw well that 
there was no probability of changing their humors, 
which were fortified with years. As I found that what- 
ever I said was offensive, not excepting those things 
which others would have been pleased with, I knew 



BEGINNING OF SORROWS 37 

not what to do. One day, weighed down with grief and 
despair, about six months after I was married, being 
alone, I was tempted even to cut out my tongue, that 
I might no longer irritate those who seized every word 
I uttered with rage and resentment. But Thou, God, 
didst stop me short and showed me my folly. I prayed 
continually, and wished even to become dumb, so sim- 
ple and ignorant was I. Though I have had my share 
of crosses, I never found any so difficult to support, as 
that of perpetual contrariety, without relaxation; of 
doing all one can to please, without succeeding therein, 
but even still offending by the very means designed to 
oblige; and being kept with such persons in a most 
severe confinement, from morning till night, without 
.ever daring to quit them. I have found that great 
crosses overwhelm, and stifle all anger at once. But 
such a continual contrariety irritates and stirs up a 
sourness in the heart. It has such a strange effect, that 
it requires the utmost efforts of self-restraint, not to 
break out into vexation and rage. 

Thus my condition in marriage was rather that of 
a slave than of a free person. And for a new augmen- 
tation of my disgraces, I perceived, four months after 
my marriage, that my husband was gouty. This mal- 
ady caused me many crosses, both within and without. 
He had the gout twice the first year, six weeks each 
time. Soon afterward it returned again, and he had 
it still worse than before. He was so much plagued 
with it, that he came no more out of his room, nor 
often out of his bed, which he usually kept for several 
months. I carefully attended him, though so very 
young. I did not fail to exert myself to the utmost in 
the performance of my duty. But, alas! all this did 






38 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

not gain me their friendship. I had not the consola- 
tion to know whether what I did was agreeable. I de- 
nied myself all the most innocent diversions, to con- 
tinue with my husband; and did whatever I thought 
would please him. Sometimes he quietly suffered me, 
and then I esteemed myself very happy ; but at other 
times I seemed insupportable to him. My particular 
friends said I was of a fine age indeed to be a nurse 
to an invalid, and that it was a shameful thing that 
I did not set more value on my talents. I answered 
them, — " Since I have a husband, I ought to share his 
painful as well as his pleasing circumstances. 9 ' Be- 
sides this, my mother, instead of pitying me, repri- 
manded me sharply for any assiduity to my husband, 
assuring me that I should render myself unhappy by it, 
and that he would afterwards demand, as a duty, what 
I now did from choice. But, my God, how different 
were Thy thoughts from theirs, — how different that 
which was without, from what passed within! My 
husband had that foible, that when anyone said any- 
thing to him against me, he flew into a passion at once. 
It was the conduct of Providence over me, for he was 
a man of reason and loved me much. When I was sick, 
he was inconsolable. I believe, had it not been for my 
mother-in-law, and the girl I have spoken of, I should 
have been very happy with him, for most men have 
their passions, and it is the duty of a reasonable woman 
to bear them peaceably, without irritating them more 
by cross replies. 

These things Thou hast ordered, my God, in such 
a manner, by Thy goodness, that I have since seen it 
was necessary, to make me die to my vain and haughty 
nature. I should not have had power to destroy it 



BEGINNING OF SORROWS 39 

myself, if Thou hadst not accomplished it by an all- 
wise economy of Thy providence. I prayed for patience 
with great earnestness; nevertheless, some sallies of 
my natural liveliness escaped me, and vanquished the 
resolutions I had taken of being silent. This was 
doubtless permitted, that my self-love might not be 
nourished by my patience; for even a moment's slip 
caused me months of humiliation, reproach and sorrow, 
and proved the occasion of new crosses. 



V. THE HAND OF PROVIDENCE. 



DURING the first year I did not make a 
proper use of my afflictions. I was still vain. 
I sometimes lied, to excuse myself to my 
husband and mother-in-law, because I stood strange- 
ly in awe of them. Sometimes I fell into a pas- 
sion, their conduct appeared so very unreasonable, 
and especially their countenancing the most provoking 
treatment of the girl who served me. For as to my 
mother-in-law, her age and rank rendered her conduct 
more tolerable. But Thou, my God, opened my eyes 
to see things in a different light. I found in Thee 
reasons for suffering, which I had never found in the 
creature. I afterwards saw clearly and reflected with 
joy, that this conduct, as unreasonable as it seemed, 
and as mortifying as it was, was quite necessary for 
me, for had I been applauded here as I was at my 
father's, I should have grown intolerably proud. 1 
had a fault common to most of our sex, — I could not 
hear a beautiful woman praised without finding fault 
in her; artfully causing something to be remarked, 
to lessen the good which was said of her. This fault of 
mine continued long, and was the fruit of gross and 
malignant pride. Extravagantly extolling anyone pro- 
ceeds from a like source. 

Just before the birth of my first child, they were 
induced to take great care of me, and my crosses were 
thereby somewhat mitigated. Indeed, I was so ill that 
it was enough to excite the compassion of the most in- 
different. Besides this, they had so great a desire 



THE HAND OF PROVIDENCE 41 

of having children to inherit their fortunes, that they 
were continually afraid lest I should any way hurt 
myself. Yet, when the time of my delivery drew 
near, this care and tenderness of me abated ; and once, 
as my mother-in-law had treated me in a very grating 
manner, I had the malice to feign a colic, to give 
them in my turn some alarm; but as I saw this little 
artifice gave them too much pain, I told them I was 
better. No creature could be more heavily laden with 
sickness than I was during this period. After my 
delivery I continued weak a long time. There was 
indeed sufficient to exercise patience, and I was ena- 
bled to offer up my sufferings to our Lord. I took a 
fever, which rendered me so weak, that after several 
weeks I could scarcely bear to be moved, to have my 
bed made. 

The event mentioned improved my appearance, and 
consequently served to increase my vanity. I was glad 
to call forth expressions of regard; and, far from 
avoiding the occasions thereof, I went to the public 
promenades (though but seldom), and when in the 
streets I pulled off my mask out of vanity, and drew 
off my gloves to show my hands. Could there be 
greater folly? After falling into these weaknesses, I 
used to weep bitterly at home; yet when occasion 
offered, I fell into them again. 

There happened in the family a matter of great 
importance, in regard to our temporal affairs. My 
husband lost considerably. This cost me strange 
crosses for above a year; not that I cared for the 
losses, but I seemed to be the butt of all the ill-humors 
of the family. It would require a volume to describe 
all that I suffered during this time. With what pleas- 



42 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

ure did I sacrifice these temporal blessings; and how 
often felt willing to have even begged my bread, if 
God had so ordered it. But my mother-in-law was in- 
consolable. She bid me pray to God for these things, 
but to me that was wholly impossible. my dearest 
Lord, never could I pray to Thee about the world, or 
the things thereof; nor sully my sacred addresses to 
Thy Majesty with the dirt of the earth. No ; I rather 
wish to renounce it all, and everything beside whatso- 
ever, for the sake of Thy love, and the enjoyment of 
Thy presence in that kingdom which is not of this 
world. I wholly sacrificed myself to Thee, even earn- 
estly begging Thee rather to reduce our family to beg- 
gary, than suffer it to offend Thee. In my own mind 
I excused my mother-in-law, saying to myself, "If I 
had taken the pains to scrape and save like her, I 
would not be so indifferent at seeing so much lost. 
I enjoy what cost me nothing, and reap what I have not 
sowed." Yet all these thoughts could not make me 
sensible to our losses. No state appeared to me so poor 
and miserable, which I would not have thought easy, 
in comparison to the continual domestic persecutions I 
underwent ; but my father, who loved me tenderly, and 
whom I honored beyond expression, knew nothing of 
it. God so permitted it, that I should have him also 
displeased with me for some time, for my mother was 
continually telling him that I was an ungrateful crea- 
ture, showing no regard for them, but all for my hus- 
band's family. Appearances were against me; for I 
did not go to see them near as often as I should have 
done. But they knew not the captivity I was in, 
and what I was obliged to bear in defending them. 
These complaints of my mother, and a trivial affair 



THE HAND OF PROVIDENCE 43 

that fell out, lessened a little my father's fond regard 
for me; but it did not hold long. My mother-in-law 
reproached me, saying no afflictions befell them till 
I came into the house. All misfortunes came along 
with me. On the other side my mother wanted me 
to exclaim against my husband, which I could never 
submit to do. 

We continued to meet with loss after loss, the King 
retrenching a considerable share of our revenues, be- 
sides great sums of money, which we lost by L 'Hotel 
de Yille. I could have no rest or peace, in the midst 
of such great afflictions. I had no mortal either to con- 
sole me, or to advise me. My sister, who had educated 
me, had died two months before my marriage, and I 
had no other for a confidant. 

I declare that I find much repugnance in saying so 
many things of my mother-in-law, and yet more in 
what I mention of my husband, as I have no doubt 
but my own indiscretion, my caprice, and the occa- 
sional sallies of a warm temper, drew many of the 
crosses upon me. And although I had what the world 
calls patience, yet I had neither a relish nor love 
for the cross, and hence I fell into so many faults. 
Their conduct towards me, which appeared so un- 
reasonable, should not be looked upon with worldly 
eyes; we should look higher, and then we shall per- 
ceive that it was directed by Providence for my eternal 
advantage. 

I now dressed my hair in the most modest manner, 
never painted, and to subdue the vanity which still had 
possession of me, I rarely looked in the glass. My 
reading was confined to books of devotion, such as 
Thomas a'Kempis, and the works of St. Francis de 



44 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

Sales. I read these aloud for the improvement of the 
servants, whilst the maid was dressing my hair ; and T 
suffered myself to be dressed just as she pleased, 
which freed me from a great deal of trouble, and took 
away the occasions wherein my vanity used to be exer- 
cised. I knew not how things were, but they always 
liked me, and thought all well in point of dress. If on 
some particular days I wanted to appear better, it 
proved worse, and the more indifferent I was about 
dress, the better I appeared. How often have I gone 
to Church, not so much to worship God as to be seen. 
Other women, jealous of me, affirmed that I painted, 
and told my confessor, who chided me for it, though I 
assured him I was innocent. I often spoke in my own 
praise, and sought to raise myself by depreciating 
others. Yet these faults gradually decreased; for 1 
was very sorry afterwards for having committed them. 
I often examined myself very strictly, writing down 
my faults from week to week, and from month to 
month, to see how much I was improved or reformed. 
But, alas! this labor, though fatiguing, was of but 
little service, because I trusted in my own efforts. I 
wished indeed to be reformed, but my good desires 
were weak and languid. 

I fell into a languishing state; I loved my God and 
was unwilling to displease Him, and I was inwardly 
grieved on account of that vanity, which still I found 
myself unable to eradicate. These inward distresses, 
together with those oppressive crosses, which I had 
daily to encounter, at length threw me into sickness; 
and as I was unwilling to incommode the Hotel de 
Longueville, I had myself moved to another house. 
The disease proved violent and tedious, insomuch that 



THE HAND OF PRO VIDENCE 45 

the physicians despaired of my life. The priest, who 
was a pious man, seemed fully satisfied with the state 
of my mind, and said, I should die like a saint. But 
my sins were too present to my mind, and too painful 
to my heart, to have such a presumption. At mid- 
night they administered the sacrament to me, as they 
hourly expected my departure. It was a scene of gen- 
eral distress in the family, and among all that knew 
me. There were none indifferent to my death but 
myself. I beheld it without fear, and was rendered 
insensible to its approach. It was far otherwise with 
my husband. He was inconsolable, and in an agony 
of grief, when he saw there was no hope left ; but I no 
sooner began to recover, than notwithstanding all his 
love, his usual fretfulness returned. I now recovered 
almost miraculously ; and to me this disorder proved a 
great blessing, for beside a very great patience under 
violent pains, it served to instruct me much in my view 
of the emptiness of all worldly things ; it detached me 
from myself and gave me new courage to suffer better 
than I had yet done. The love of God gathered 
strength in my heart, with a desire to please and be 
faithful to Him in my condition. I reaped several 
other advantages from it which I need not relate, I 
had yet six months to drag along with a slow fever. It 
was thought that it would terminate in death. But 
Thy time, my God, had not yet arrived for taking 
me to Thyself. Thy designs over me were widely 
different from the expectations of those about me; it 
being Thy determination to make me both the object 
of Thy mercy and the victim of Thy justice. 



VI. INFLUENCES OF RELIGIOUS PERSONS. 



AFTER long languishing, at length I regained 
my former health ; about which time my dear 
mother departed this life in great tranquil- 
ity of mind; having, beside her other good quali- 
ties, been particularly charitable to the poor. This 
virtue, so acceptable to God, He was graciously 
pleased to commence rewarding even in this life, with 
such a spirit of resignation, that though she was but 
twenty-four hours sick, she was made perfectly easy 
about everything that was near and dear to her in this 
world, — I now applied myself to my duties, never fail- 
ing to practice that of prayer twice a day. I watched 
over myself, to subdue my spirit continually. I went 
to visit the poor in their houses, assisting them in 
their distempers and distresses; and did all the good 
I knew. Thou, my God, increased both my love and 
my patience, in proportion to my sufferings. I re- 
gretted not the temporal advantages with which my 
mother distinguished my brother above me, yet at 
home they fell on me about that, as about every- 
thing else. 

A lady, who was an exile, came to my father's 
house. He offered her an apartment in it which she 
accepted, and stayed there a long time. She was one of 
true piety and inward devotion. She had a great 
esteem for me, because I desired to love God, and 
employed myself in the exterior works of charity. She 
remarked that I had the virtues of an active and bust- 
ling life, but had not yet attained the simplicity of 



INFLUENCES OF RELIGIOUS PERSONS 47 

prayer which she experienced. Sometimes she dropped 
a word to me on that subject, but as my time had not 
yet come, I did not understand her. Her example 
instructed me more than her words. I observed on 
her countenance something which marked a great en- 
joyment of the presence of God. This I tried, by 
the exertion of studied reflection and thoughts, to 
attain, but with much trouble and to little purpose. I 
wanted to have by my own efforts what I could not 
acquire but in ceasing from all efforts. 

My father's nephew, of whom I have made mention 
before, returned from Cochin, China. I was exceed- 
ingly glad to see him, well remembering what good 
his first passing by had done me. The lady above 
mentioned was no less rejoiced than I; they under- 
stood each other immediately and conversed together 
in a spiritual language. The virtue of this excellent 
relation charmed me, and I admired his continual 
prayer without being able to comprehend it. I en- 
deavored to meditate, and to think on God without 
intermission, to utter prayers and ejaculations, but 
could not acquire, by all my toil, what God at length 
gave me Himself, and which is experienced only in 
simplicity. My cousin did all he could to attach 
me more strongly to God. He conceived an exceed- 
ingly great affection for me. The purity he observed 
in me from corruptions of the age, the abhorrence of 
sin at a time of life when others are beginning to 
relish the pleasures of it, (for I was not yet eighteen), 
gave him a great tenderness for me. I complained 
to him of my faults ingenuously; for these I saw 
clearly; but as the difficulties I found, of entirely re- 
forming myself, much abated my courage, he cheerecl 



48 LIFE OF MADAM G UYON 

and exhorted me to support myself, and to persevere in 
my good endeavors for it. He would fain have intro- 
duced me into a more simple manner of prayer, but 
I was not yet prepared for it. 

I believe his prayers were more effectual than his 
words; for no sooner was he gone out of my father's 
house, than Thou, my Divine Love, manifested Thy 
favor to me. The desire I had to please Thee, the 
tears I shed, the manifold pains I underwent, the 
labors I sustained, and the little fruit I reaped from 
them, moved Thee with compassion. Such was the 
state of my soul, when Thy goodness, surpassing all 
my vileness and infidelities, and abounding in propor- 
tion to my wretchedness, now granted me in a moment, 
what all my own efforts could never procure. For, 
beholding me rowing with such laborious toil, the 
breath of thy divine operations turned in my favor, 
and carried me full sail over this sea of affliction. 

I had often spoken to my confessor about the great 
anxiety it gave me to find I could not meditate, nor 
exert my imagination in order to pray. Subjects of 
prayer which were too extensive were useless to me; 
such as were short and pithy suited me better; but my 
confessor, I found, did not comprehend the matter, or 
understand my meaning. 

At length, God permitted a very religious person, of 
the order of St. Francis, to pass by my father's habita- 
tion. He had intended going another way, that was 
shorter and more commodious; but a secret power 
changed his design. He saw there was something for 
him to do, and imagined that God had called him for 
the conversion of a man of some distinction in that 
country, but his labors there proved fruitless. It was 



IN PL UBNCBS OF RBUGIO US PERSONS 49 

the conquest of my soul which was designed. As soon 
as he arrived in our country, he came to see my father, 
who was rejoiced at his coming. At this time I was 
about to be delivered of my second son, and my father 
was dangerously ill, and was expected to die. For 
some time they concealed his sickness from me, on 
account of my condition, till an indiscreet person 
abruptly told me. Instantly I arose, as weak as I was, 
and went to see him at the hazard of my life, and a 
dangerous illness it cost me. My father was recovered, 
but not entirely ; yet enough to give me new marks of 
his affection. I told him of the strong desire I had to 
love God, and my great sorrow at not being able to do 
it fully. As he had a great fondness for me, he thought 
he could not give me a more solid indication thereof, 
than in procuring me an acquaintance with this worthy 
man. He told me what he knew of him, and urged me 
to go and see him. 

I therefore took a kinswoman along with me, and 
went. At first he seemed a little confused ; for he was 
reserved towards women. Being newly come out of a 
five years' solitude, he was surprised that I was the 
first to address him. He spoke not a word for some 
time. I knew not what to attribute his silence to. I 
did not hestitate to speak to him, and to tell him in 
a few words, my difficulties about prayer. He present- 
ly replied, "It is, madame, because you seek without what 
you have within. Accustom yourself to seek God in 
your heart, and you will there find Him." 

Having said these words, he left me. They were to 
me like the stroke of a dart, which penetrated through 
my heart. I felt at this instant a very deep wound, a 
wound so delightful that I desired not to be cured. 



50 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

These words brought into my heart what I had been 
seeking so many years ) or rather they discovered to me 
what was there, and which I had not enjoyed for want 
of knowing it. my Lord, Thou wast in my heart, and 
demanded only a simple turning of my mind inward, 
to make me perceive Thy presence. Oh, Infinite Good- 
ness! how was I running hither and thither to seek 
Thee, my life was a burden to me, although my happi- 
ness was within myself. I was poor in the midst of 
riches, and ready to perish with hunger, near a table 
plentifully spread, and a continual feast. It was for 
want of understanding these words of Thy Gospel, 
"The kingdom of God cometh not with observation; 
neither shall they say, Lo here, or lo there : For behold, 
the kingdom of God is within you. ,, This I now ex- 
perienced, for Thou becamest my King, and" my heart 
Thy kingdom, wherein Thou didst reign supreme, and 
performed all Thy sacred will. 

I told this good man that I did not know what 
he had done to me, that my heart was quite changed, 
that God was there; for from that moment He had 
given me an experience of His presence in my soul ; not 
by thought or any application of mind, but as a thing 
really possessed after the sweetest manner. I experi- 
enced these words in the Canticles: "Thy name is as 
precious ointment poured forth; therefore do the vir- 
gins love Thee." For I felt in my soul an unction 
which, as a salutary balsam, healed in a moment all 
my wounds. I slept not that whole night, because Thy 
love, my God, flowed in me like a delicious oil, and 
burned as a fire which was going to devour in an 
instant all that was left of self. I was suddenly so 
altered that I was hardly to be known either by myself 



INFLUENCES OF RELIGIOUS PERSONS 51 

or others. I found no longer those troublesome faults 
or reluctances. They all disappeared, being consumed 
like chaff in a great fire. 

I now became desirous that the instrument hereof 
might become my director, preferable to any other. 
This good father, however, could not readily resolve to 
charge himself with my conduct, though he saw so sur- 
prising a change effected by the hand of God. Several 
reasons induced him to excuse himself; first my per- 
son, then my youth, for I was only nineteen years of 
age ; and lastly, a promise he had made to God, from 
a distrust of himself, never to take upon himself the 
direction of any of our sex, unless God, by some par- 
ticular providence, should charge him therewith. How- 
ever, upon my earnest and repeated request to him to 
become my director, he said he would pray to God 
thereupon, and desired that I should do so, too. As 
he was at prayer, it was said to him, "Fear not that 
charge; she is My spouse.' ' When I heard this, it 
affected me greatly. "What (said I to myself) a 
frightful monster of iniquity, who has done so much to 
offend my God, in abusing His favors, and requiting 
them with ingratitude; and now to be declared His 
spouse!" After this he consented to my request. 

Nothing now was more easy to me than prayer. 
Hours passed away like moments, while I could hardly 
do anything else but pray. The fervency of my love 
allowed me no intermission. It was a prayer of rejoic- 
ing and possessing, devoid of all busy imaginations 
and forced reflections ; it was a prayer of the will, and 
not of the head, wherein the taste of God was so great, 
so pure, unblended and uninterrupted, that it drew 
and absorbed the power of my soul into a profound 



52 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

recollection without act or discourse. For I had now 
no sight but of Jesus Christ alone. All else was 
excluded, in order to love with the greater extent, with- 
out any selfish motives or reasons for loving. 

This sovereign power, the will, absorbed the two 
others, the memory and understanding into itself, and 
concentrated them in love ; — not but that they still sub- 
sisted, but their operations were in a manner imper- 
ceptible and passive ; for they were no longer stopped 
or retarded by the multiplicity, but collected and 
united in one. So the rising of the sun does not ex- 
tinguish the stars, but overpowers and absorbs them in 
the lustre of his incomparable glory. 



VIL VISIONS AND GIFTS. 



SUCH was the prayer that was given me at once, 
which is far above ecstasies, transports, or vis- 
ions. All these gifts are less pure, and more 
subject to illusion or deceits from the enemy. 

Visions are in the inferior powers of the soul, and 
cannot produce true union, — therefore, the soul must 
not dwell or rely upon them, or be retarded by them ; 
they are but favors and gifts, — 'tis the Giver alone 
must be our object and aim. 

It is of such that St. Paul speaks, when he says, 
that " Satan transforms himself into an angel of light," 
2 Cor. xi. 18 ; which is generally the case with such as 
are fond of visions, and lay a stress on them; because 
they are apt to convey a vanity to the soul, or at least 
hinder it from humbly attending to God only. 

Ecstasies arise from a sensible relish, and may be 
termed a kind of spiritual sensuality, wherein the soul 
letting itself go too far, by reason of the sweetness it 
finds in them, falls imperceptibly into decay. The 
crafty enemy presents such sort of interior elevations 
and raptures, for baits to entrap the soul ; to render it 
sensual, to fill it with vanity and self-love, to fix its 
esteem and attention on the gifts of God, and to hinder 
it from following Jesus Christ in the way of renuncia- 
tion, and of death to all things. 

And as to distinct interior words, they too are 
subject to illusion; the enemy can form and counter- 
feit them. Or if they come from a good angel, (for 
God Himself never speaks thus), we may mistake and 



54 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

misapprehend them; for they are spoken in a divine 
manner, but we construe them in a human and carnal 
manner. 

But the immediate word of God has neither tone 
nor articulation. It is mute, silent, and unutterable; 
for it is Jesus Christ Himself, the real and essential 
Word — who in the centre of the soul, that is disposed 
for receiving Him, never one moment ceases from His 
living, fruitful, and divine operation. 

Oh, Thou Word made flesh, whose silence is inex- 
pressible eloquence, Thou canst never be misappre- 
hended or mistaken. Thou becomest the life of our 
life, and the soul of our soul. How infinitely is Thy 
language elevated above all the utterances of human 
and finite articulation. Thy adorable power, all effica- 
cious in the soul that has received it, communicates 
itself through them to others, and as a divine seed 
becomes fruitful to eternal life. 

The revelations of things to come are also very 
dangerous; for the devil can counterfeit them, as he 
did formerly in the heathen temples, where he uttered 
oracles. Frequently they raise false ideas, vain hopes, 
and frivolous expectations; take up the mind with 
future events, hinder it from dying to self, and prevent 
it following Jesus Christ in Hi§ poverty, abnegation, 
and death. 

Widely different is the revelation of Jesus Christ, 
made to the soul when the eternal Word is communi- 
cated — Gal. 1 :16. It makes us new creatures, created 
anew in Him. This revelation is what the devil cannot 
counterfeit. From hence proceeds the only safe trans- 
port or ecstasy, which is operated by naked faith alone, 
and dying even to the gifts of God, how sublime and 



VISIONS AND GIFTS 55 

excellent soever they may appear; because as long as 
the soul continues resting in them, it does not fully 
renounce itself; and so never passing into God, loses 
the real enjoyment of the Giver, by attachments to the 
gifts. This is truly an unutterable loss. 

Lest I should let my mind go after these gifts, and 
steal myself from Thy love, my God, Thou wast 
pleased to fix me in a continual adherence to Thyself 
alone. Souls thus directed get the shortest way. They 
are to expect great sufferings, especially if they are 
mighty in faith, in mortification and deadness to all 
but God. A pure and disinterested love, and intense- 
ness of mind for the advancement of Thy interest 
alone — these are the dispositions Thou didst then im- 
plant in me, and even a fervent desire of suffering 
for Thee. The cross, which I had hitherto borne only 
with resignation, was now become my delight, and the 
special object of my rejoicing. 

I wrote an account of my wonderful change, in 
point of happiness, to that good father who had been 
made the instrument of it. It filled him both with joy 
and astonishment. my God, what penances did the 
love of suffering induce me to undergo! I was im- 
pelled to deprive myself of the most innocent indulg- 
ences; all that could gratify my taste was denied it, 
and I took everything that could mortify and disgust 
it, insomuch .that my appetite, which had been extreme- 
ly delicate, was so far conquered, that at length I 
could scarcely prefer one thing to another. 

I dressed loathsome sores and wounds, and gave 
remedies to the sick. When I first engaged in this 
sort of employment, it was with the greatest difficulty 
I was able to bear it. But as soon as my aversion 



56 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

ceased, and I could stand the most offensive things, 
other channels of employment were opened to me. For 
I did nothing of myself, but left myself to be wholly 
governed by my Sovereign in all things. 

When that good father asked me how I loved God, 
I answered, "Far more than the most passionate lover 
his beloved ;" and that even this comparison was 
inadequate, since the love of the creature never can 
attain to this, either in strength or in depth. This 
love of God occupied my heart so constantly and so 
strongly, that I could think of nothing else, as indeed 
I judged nothing else worthy of my thoughts. 

The good father above mentioned was an excellent 
preacher. He was desired to preach in the parish to 
which I belonged. When he came, I was so strongly 
absorbed in God, that I could neither open my eyes, 
nor hear anything he said. I found that Thy Word, 
my God, made its own impression on my heart, and 
there had its effect, without the mediation of words, 
or any attention to them. And I have found it so ever 
since, but after a different manner, according to the 
different degrees and states I have passed through. 
So deeply was I settled in the inward spirit of prayer, 
that I could scarce any more pronounce the vocal 
prayers. 

I now quitted all company, bade farewell forever to 
all plays and diversions, dancing, unprofitable walks 
and parties of pleasure. For two years I had left off 
dressing my hair, — it became me, and my husband 
approved it. My only pleasure now was to steal some 
moments to be alone with Thee, Thou who art my 
only Love! All other pleasure was a pain to me. 



VIII. DEATH OF THE SENSES. 



MY senses were continually mortified, and un- 
der perpetual restraint. For it should be 
well noted, that to conquer them totally, 
it is necessary to deny them the smallest relaxation, 
until the victory is completed. We see those who con- 
tent themselves in practicing great outward austerities, 
and yet by indulging their senses in what is called inno- 
cent and necessary, they remain forever unsubdued; 
so that austerities, however severe, will not conquer the 
senses. To destroy their power, the most effectual 
means, is in general, to deny them firmly what will 
please, and to persevere in this, until they are reduced 
to be without desire or repugnance. But if we attempt, 
during the warfare, to grant them any relaxation, we 
act like those, who, under pretext of strengthening 
a man, who was condemned to be starved to death, 
should give him from time to time a little nourishment 
which indeed would prolong his torments, and postpone 
his death. 

It is just the same with the death of the senses, the 
powers, the understanding, and self-will; for if we do 
not eradicate every remains of self subsisting in these, 
we support them in a dying life to the end. This state 
and its termination are clearly set forth by St. Paul. 
He speaks of bearing about in the body the dying of 
the Lord Jesus. (2 Cor. iv. 10.) But, lest we should 
rest here, he fully distinguishes this from the state of 
being dead, and having our life hid with Chirst in 



58 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

God. It is only by a total death to self we can be lost 
in God. 

He who is thus dead has no further need of morti- 
fication; for the very end of mortification is accom- 
plished in him, and all is become new. it is an un- 
happy error in those good souls, who have arrived 
at a conquest of the bodily senses, through this unre- 
mitted and continual mortification, that they should 
still continue attached to the exercise of it ; they should 
rather drop their attention thereto, and remain in indif- 
ference, accepting with equality the good as the bad, 
the sweet as the bitter, and bend their whole attention 
to a labor of greater importance; namely, the morti- 
fication of the mind and self-will, beginning by drop- 
ping all the activity of self, which can never be done 
without the most profound prayer; no more than the 
death of the senses can be perfected without profound 
recollection joined to mortification; and indeed recol- 
lection is the chief means whereby we attain to a con- 
quest of the senses, as it detaches and separates us 
from them, and sweetly saps the very cause from 
whence they derive their influence over us. 

The more Thou didst augment my love, and my 
patience, my Lord, the less respite had I from the 
most oppressive crosses; but love rendered them easy 
to bear. O ye poor souls, who exhaust yourselves with 
needless vexation, if you would but seek God in your 
hearts, there would be a speedy end to all your trou- 
bles, for the increase of crosses would proportionately 
increase your delight. 

Love, at the beginning, athirst for mortification im- 
pelled me to seek and invent various kinds, and it is 
surprising, that as soon as the bitterness of any new 



DEATH OF THE SENSES 59 

mode of mortification was exhausted, another kind was 
pointed to me, and I was inwardly led to pursue it. 
Divine love so enlightened my heart, and so scrutinized 
into its secret springs, that the smallest defects became 
exposed. If I was about to speak, something wrong 
was instantly pointed to me, and I was compelled to 
silence; if I kept silence, faults herein were presently 
discovered, — in every action there was something de- 
fective — in my mortifications, my penances, my alms- 
giving, my retirement, I was faulty. When I walked, 
I observed there was something wrong ; if I spoke any 
way in my own favor, I saw pride. If I said within 
myself, alas, I will speak no more, here was self. If 
I was cheerful and open, I was condemned. This pure 
love always found matter for reproof in me, and was 
jealous that nothing should escape unnoticed. It was 
not that I was particularly attentive over myself, for 
it was even with constraint that I could look at all at 
myself; as my attention towards God, by an attach- 
ment of my will to His, was without intermission, I 
waited continually upon Him, and He watched inces- 
santly over me, and He so led me by His providence, 
that I forgot all things. I knew not how to communi- 
cate what I felt to anyone. I was so lost to myself, 
that I could scarcely go about self-examination ; when 
I attempted it all ideas of myself immediately disap- 
peared, and I found myself occupied with my one 
object, without distinction of ideas. I was absorbed in 
peace inexpressible; I saw by the eye of faith that it 
was God that thus wholly possessed me, but I did not 
reason at all about it. 

It must not, however, be supposed that Divine Love 
suffered my faults to go unpunished. Lord! with 



60 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

i j i ft 

what rigor, dost Thou punish the most faithful, the 
most loving and beloved of Thy children. I mean not 
externally, for this would be inadequate to the smallest 
fault, in a soul that God is about to purify radically; 
and the punishments it can inflict on itself, are rather 
gratifications and refreshments than otherwise. In- 
deed, the manner in which He corrects His chosen, must 
be felt, or it is impossible to conceive how dreadful it is, 
and in my attempt to explain it, I shall be unintelligi- 
ble, except to experienced souls. It is an internal 
burning, a secret fire, sent from God to purge away the 
fault, giving extreme pain, until this purification is 
effected. It is like a dislocated joint, which is in inces- 
sant torment, until the bone is replaced. This pain is 
so severe, that the soul would do anything to satisfy 
God for the fault, and would rather be torn in pieces 
than endure the torment. Sometimes she flies to oth- 
ers, and opens her state that she may find consolation, 
but thereby she frustrates God's designs towards her. 
It is of the utmost consequence to know what use to 
make of the distress, as the whole of one's spiritual 
advancement depends thereon. "We should at these 
seasons of internal anguish, obscurity and mourning, 
co-operate with God, and endure this consuming tor- 
ture in its utmost extent (whilst it continues) without 
attempting to lessen or increase it; but bear it pas- 
sively, nor seek to satisfy God by anything we can do 
of ourselves. To continue passive at such a time is 
extremely difficult, and requires great firmness and 
courage. I knew some, who being defective herein, 
never advanced farther in the spiritual process, because 
they grew impatient, and sought means of consolation. 



DEATH OF THE SENSES 61 

The treatment of my husband and mother-in-law, 
however rigorous and insulting, I now bore silently — 
and made them no replies ; and this was not so difficult 
for me, for the greatness of my interior occupation, 
and what passed within, rendered me insensible to all 
the rest; yet there were times when I was left to my- 
self. And then I could not refrain from tears, when 
they fell violently on me. I did the lowest offices for 
them, to humble myself. Yet all this did not win their 
favor. When they were in a rage, although I could 
not find that I had given them any occasion for it, yet 
I did not fail to beg their pardon, and even from the 
girl I have spoken of. I had a good deal of pain to 
surmount myself, as to the last, because she became 
the more insolent for it, reproaching me with things 
which ought to have made her blush, and to have cov- 
ered her with shame. As she saw that I contradicted 
and resisted her no more in anything, she proceeded 
to treat me still worse. And when I asked her pardon 
for the very offences which she had given me, she 
triumphed, saying, "I knew very well I was in the 
right." Her arrogance rose to that height, that I 
would not have treated the meanest slave, or vassal, as 
she treated me. 

One day, as she was dressing me, she pulled me 
very roughly, and spoke to me very insolently. I said 
to her, "It is not on my account that I am willing to 
answer you, for you give me no pain, but lest you 
should act thus before persons to whom it would give 
offence. Moreover, as I am your mistress, God is 
assuredly offended therewith." She left me that mo- 
ment, and ran like a mad woman to meet my husband, 
telling him she would stay no longer, I treated her 



62 LIPE OP MADAM GUYON 

so ill, and that I hated her for the care she took of 
him in his indispositions, which were continual, want- 
ing her not to do any service for him. As my husband 
was very hasty, he took fire at these words. I finished 
the dressing of myself alone, since she had left me, and 
I durst not call another girl ; for she would not suffer 
another girl to come near me. All on a sudden, I saw 
my husband coming like a lion, for he was never in 
such a rage as this. I thought he was going to strike 
me ; I waited the blow with tranquillity ; he threatened 
me with his uplifted crutch; I thought he was going 
to knock me down with it, and holding myself closely 
united to God, I beheld it without pain. However, he 
did not strike me, for he had presence of mind enough 
to see what an indignity it would be, but in his rage 
he threw it at me. It fell near me, but it did not 
touch me; after which he discharged himself in such 
language as if I had been a street beggar, or the most 
infamous of all creatures. I kept a profound silence, 
being recollected in the Lord, to suffer for His love all 
these things. 

The girl in the meantime came in. At the sight of 
her his rage redoubled. I kept near to God, as a vic- 
tim disposed to suffer whatever He would permit. My 
husband ordered me to beg her pardon, which I readily 
did, and thereby appeased him. I went presently into 
my dear closet, where I no sooner was, than my divine 
Director impelled me to make this girl a present, to 
recompense her for the cross which she had caused me, 
which I did. She was a little astonished, but her heart 
was too hard to be gained. 

I often acted thus, for she frequently gave me such 
opportunities. She had a singular dexterity in attend- 



DBA TH OF THE SENSES 63 

ing the sick, and my husband ailing almost continually, 
no other person would be suffered to administer to him. 
For this reason he had a very great regard for her. 
Moreover, she was so artful, that in his presence she 
affected an extraordinary respect for me, but when 
he was not present, if I said a word to her, though with 
the greatest mildness, if she heard him coming, she 
cried out with all her might, that she was unhappy, 
and acted like one distressed in such a manner, that 
without informing himself of the truth, he was irritated 
against me, as was also my mother -4n-law. 

The violence I did to my proud and hasty nature 
was so great, that I could hold out no longer. I was 
quite spent with it. It seemed sometimes as if I was 
inwardly rent, and I have often fallen sick with the 
struggle. She did not forbear exclaiming against me, 
even before persons of distinction, who came to see me. 
If I was silent, she took offence at that yet more, and 
said I despised her. She cried me down, and made 
complaints of me to everybody. But all this redounded 
to my honor and her own disgrace. My reputation 
was so well established, on account of my exterior 
modesty, my devotion, and the great acts of charity 
which I did, that nothing could shake it. 

Sometimes she ran out into the very street, crying 
out against me. At one time she exclaimed, "Am not 
I very unhappy to have such a mistress ?" People 
gathered about her to know what I had done to her, 
and not knowing what to say, she answer I had not 
spoken to her all day. They returned, laughing, and 
said, "She has done you no great harm then." 

I am surprised at the blindness of confessors, and 
at their permitting their penitents to conceal so much 



64 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

of the truth from them — for the confessor of this girl 
made her pass for a saint. This he said in my hearing. 
I answered nothing, for love would not permit me to 
speak of my troubles, but that I should consecrate 
them all to God by a profound silence. 

My husband was out of humor with my devotion. 
It became insupportable to him. "What," said he, 
"you love God so much, that you love me no longer.' I 
So little did he comprehend that the true conjugal love 
is that which the Lord Himself forms in the heart that 
loves Him. Oh, Thou who art pure and holy, Thou 
didst imprint in me from the first such a love of chas- 
tity, that there was nothing in the world which I would 
not have undergone to possess and preserve it. I en- 
deavored to be agreeable to my husband in anything, 
and to please him in everything he could require of me. 
God gave me such a purity of soul at that time, that I 
had not so much as a bad thought. Sometimes my 
husband said to me, "One sees plainly that you never 
lose the presence of God." 

The world, seeing I quitted it, persecuted and turned 
me into ridicule. I was its entertainment, and the sub- 
ject of its fables. It could not bear that a woman, 
who was scarce twenty years of age. should thus make 
war against it, and overcome. My mother-in-law took 
part with the world, and blamed me for not doing 
many things, that in her heart she would have been 
highly offended had I done them. I was as one lost, 
and all alone ; so little communion had I with the crea- 
ture, farther than necessity required. I seemed to ex- 
perience literally those words of St. Paul, "I live, yet, 
no more I, but Christ liveth in me;" for He was be- 
come the soul of my soul, and the life of my life. His 



DEATH OF THE SENSES 65 

operations were so powerful, so sweet, and so secret, 
all together, that I could not express them. We went 
into the country on some business. Oh ! what unutter- 
able communications did I there experience in retire- 
ment! 

I was insatiable for prayer; I arose at four o'clock 
in the morning to pray. I went very far to the Church, 
which was so situated, that the coach could not come 
to it. There was a steep hill to go down and another 
to ascend. All that cost me nothing; I had such a 
longing desire to meet with God, as my only good, 
who on His part was graciously forward to give Himself 
to His poor creature, and for it to do even visible mira- 
cles. Such as saw me lead a life so very different 
from the women of the world, said I was a fool. They 
attributed it to stupidity. If I went into company, of- 
ten I could not speak, so much was I engaged within, 
so inward with the Lord, as not to attend to anything 
else. If any near me spoke, I heard nothing of what 
they said. I generally took one with me, that this 
might not appear. I took some work, to hide under 
that appearance the real employ of my heart. When 
I was alone, the work dropped out of my hands; and 
I could do nothing else but resign* myself to be wholly 
taken up with love. I wanted to persuade a relation 
of my husband's to practice prayer. She thought me 
a fool, for depriving myself of all the amusements of 
the age. But the Lord has since opened her eyes, 
to make her despise them. I could have wished to 
teach all the world to love God; and thought it de- 
pended only on them to feel what I felt. The Lord 
made use of my thinking thus, to gain many souls to 
Himself, 



66 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

The good father I have spoken of, who was the in- 
strument of my conversion, made me acquainted with 
Genevieve Granger, prioress of the Benedictines, one 
of the greatest servants of God of her time, who proved 
of very great service to me. My confessor, who had 
told everyone that I was a saint before, when so full 
of miseries, and so far from the condition to which the 
Lord in His mercy had now brought me, seeing I 
placed a confidence in the father of whom I have 
spoken, and that I steered in a road which was un- 
known to him, declared openly against me, and the 
monks of his order persecuted me much. They even 
preached publicly against me, as a person under a 
delusion. 

My husband and mother-in-law, who till now had 
been indifferent about this confessor, then joined him 
and ordered me to leave off prayer, and the exercise of 
piety; but that I could not do. Even when I was in 
company, the Lord seized my heart more powerfully. 
There was carried on a conversation within me, very 
different from that which passed without. I did what 
I could to hinder it from appearing, but could not. 
The presence of so great a Master manifested itself, 
even on my countenance, and that pained my hus- 
band, as he sometimes told me. I did what I could to 
hinder it from being noticed, but was not able com- 
pletely to hide it. I was so much inwardly occupied 
that I knew not what I eat. This deep inward atten- 
tion suffered me scarcely to hear or see anything. I 
still continued to use many severe mortifications and 
austerities; yet they did not in the least diminish the 
freshness pf my countenance, 



DEATH OF THE SENSES 67 

I had often grievous fits of sickness and no conso- 
lation in life, but in the practice of prayer, and in see- 
ing Mother Granger. How dear did these cost me, 
especially the former ! But what do I say, my Love ! 
Is this esteeming the cross as I ought? — should I not 
rather say that prayer to me was recompensed with 
the cross, and the cross with prayer. Oh, ye insepara- 
ble gifts, united in my heart and life! When your 
eternal light arose in my soul, how perfectly it recon- 
ciled me, and made ye the object of my love! From 
the moment I received Thee I have never been free 
from the cross, nor it seems without prayer — though 
for a long time I thought myself deprived thereof, 
which exceedingly augmented my afflictions. 

My confessor at first exerted his efforts to hinder 
me from practicing prayer, and from seeing Mother 
Granger. And he violently stirred up my husband and 
mother-in-law to hinder me from praying. The method 
they took to effect it was, to watch me from morning 
till night. I durst not go out from my mother-in-law's 
chamber, or from my husband's bedside. Sometimes 
I carried my work to the window, under a pretence of 
seeing better, in order to relieve myself with some 
moment's repose; but they came to watch me very 
closely, to see if I did not pray instead of working. 
When my husband and mother-in-law played at cards, 
if I did but turn towards the fire, they watched to see 
if I continued my work or shut my eyes. If they 
observed I closed them, they would be in a fury against 
me for several hours. But what is most strange, when 
my husband went abroad, having some days of health, 
he would not allow me to pray in his absence. He 
marked my work, and sometimes, after he was just 



68 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

gone out, returning immediately, if he found me in my 
closet, he would be in a rage. In vain I said to him, 
"Surely, sir, what matters it what I do when you are 
absent, if I be assiduous in attending you when you are 
present ?" That would not satisfy him; he insisted 
upon it that I should no more pray in his absence than 
in his presence. 

I believe there is hardly a torment equal to that of 
being ardently drawn to retirement, and not having it 
in one's power to be retired. But, my God, the war 
they raised, to hinder me from loving Thee, did but 
augment my love; and while they were striving to 
prevent my address to Thee, Thou drewest me into an 
inexpressible silence; and the more they labored to 
separate me from Thee, the more closely didst Thou 
unite me to Thyself. The flame of Thy love was kin- 
dled, and kept up by everything that was done to extin- 
guish it. 

Often through compliance I played at piquet with 
my husband, and at such times was even more inte- 
riorly attracted than if I had been at Church. I was 
scarce able to contain the fire which burned in my 
soul, which had all the fervor of what men call love, 
but nothing of its impetuosity; for the more ardent, 
the more peaceable it was. This fire gained strength 
from everything that was done to suppress it. And 
the spirit of prayer was nourished and increased, from 
their contrivances and endeavors to disallow me any 
time for practicing it. I loved, without considering a 
motive, or reason for loving ; for nothing passed in my 
head, but much in the innermost recesses of my soul. 
I thought not about any recompense, gift, or favor, 
which He could bestow or I receive. The Well-beloved 



DEATH OF THE SENSES 69 

was Himself the only object wiiieh attracted my heart. 
I could not contemplate His attributes. I knew noth- 
ing else, but to love and to suffer. Oh, ignorance more 
truly learned than any science of the doctors, since it 
taught me so well Jesus Christ crucified, and brought 
me to be in love with His holy cross. I could then have 
wished to die, in order to be inseparably united to Him 
who so powerfully attracted my heart. As all this 
passed in the will, the imagination and the understand- 
ing being absorbed in it, in an union of enjoyment, 
I knew not what to say, having never read or heard of 
such a state as I experienced. I dreaded delusion and 
feared that all was not right, for before this I had 
known nothing of the operations of God in souls. I had 
only read St. Francis de Sales, Thomas a'Kempis, The 
Spiritual Combat, and the Holy Scriptures. I was 
quite a stranger to those spiritual books wherein such 
states are described. 

Then all those amusements and pleasures that are 
prized and esteemed, appeared to me dull and insipid, 
so that I wondered how it could be that I had ever 
enjoyed them. And indeed since that time, I could 
never find any satisfaction or enjoyment out of God, 
although I have sometimes been unfaithful enough to 
endeavor it. I was not astonished that martyrs gave 
their lives for Jesus Christ. I thought them happy, 
and sighed after their privilege of suffering for Him ; — 
for I so esteemed the cross, that my greatest trouble 
was the want of suffering as much as my heart thirsted 
for. 

This respect and esteem for the cross continually 
increased, and although afterwards I lost the sensible 
relish and enjoyment thereof, yet the love and esteem 



70 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

has no more left me than the cross itself. Indeed, it 
has ever been my faithful companion, changing and 
augmenting, in proportion to the changes and disposi- 
tions of my inward state. O blessed cross, thou hast 
never quitted me, since I surrendered myself to my 
divine crucified Master, and I still hope that thou wilt 
never abandon me. So eager was I for the cross, that 
I endeavored to make myself feel the utmost rigor of 
every mortification, and felt them to the quick. Yet 
this only served to awaken my desire of suffering, and 
to show me that it is God alone that can prepare and 
send crosses suitable to a soul that thirsts for a follow- 
ing of His sufferings, and a conformity to His death. 
The more my state of prayer augmented, my desire of 
suffering grew stronger, as the full weight of heavy 
crosses from every side came thundering upon me. 

The peculiar property of this prayer of the heart is 
to give a strong faith. Mine was without limits, as 
was also my resignation to God, and my confidence in 
Him, — my love of His will, and of the order of His 
providence over me. I was very timorous before, but 
now feared nothing. It is in such a case that one feels 
the efficacy of these words of the Gospel, "My yoke is 
easy, and my burden is light." Matt. xi. 30. 



IX. LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. 



1HAD a secret desire given me from that time to 
be wholly devoted to the disposal of my God, 
let that be what it would. I said, ' ' What couldst 
Thou demand of me, that I would not willingly offer 
Thee? Oh, spare me not." The cross and humilia- 
tions were represented to my mind in the most fright- 
ful colors, — but this deterred me not. I yielded my- 
self up as a willing victim, and indeed our Lord 
seemed to accept of my sacrifice, for ilis divine provi- 
dence furnisiied me incessantly with occasions and 
opportunities lor putting it to tne test. 

i could scarce hear iiod or our Lord Jesus Christ 
spoken of, without being almost transported out of 
my seix. What surprised me tne most was, tne great 
dinicuity 1 had to say tne vocal prayers 1 liad been used 
to repeat. As soon as i opened my lips to pronounce 
tneni, tlie love oi God seized me so strongiy, mat 1 was 
swallowed up in a proiound silence, and an inexpressi- 
ble peace, l made fresn attempts, but still in vain. 
1 began again and again, but could not go on. And as 
1 had never before Heard of such a state, 1 knew not 
what to do. My inability still increased, because my 
love to the Lord was still growing more strong, more 
violent and more overpowering. There was made in 
me, without the sound of words, a continual prayer, 
which seemed to me to be tJie prayer of our Lord 
Jesus Christ Himself; a prayer of the Word, which is 
made by the Spirit, that according to St. Paul, "asketh 



72 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

for us that which is good, perfect, and conformable to 
the will of God. ' ' Rom. viii. 26-27. 

My domestic crosses continued. I was prevented 
from seeing or even writing to Mrs. Granger. My very 
going to divine service or the blessed sacrament, was 
a source of woeful offences ; and the only amusement I 
had left me, was the visiting and attending the sick 
poor, and performing the lowest offices for them. 

But now my prayer-time began to be exceedingly 
distressing. I compelled myself to continue at it, 
though deprived of all comfort and consolation; and 
yet when I was not employed therein, I felt an ardent 
desire and longing for it. I suffered inexpressible 
anguish in my mind, and endeavored with the severest 
inflictions of corporeal austerities to mitigate and divert 
it — but in vain; the dryness and barrenness still in- 
creased; I found no more that enlivening vigor which 
had hitherto carried me on with great swiftness. My 
passions (which were not thoroughly mortified) re- 
vived, and caused me new conflicts. I relapsed into a 
vain complacency and fondness for myself. My pro- 
pensity to pride and vanity, which seemed quite dead, 
while I was so filled with the love of God, now showed 
itself again, and gave me severe exercise which made 
me lament the exterior beauty of my person, and pray 
to God incessantly, that He would remove from me that 
obstacle, and make me ugly. I could even have wished 
to be deaf, blind and dumb, that nothing might divert 
me from my love of God. 

I set out on a journey, which we had then to make, 
and here I appeared more than ever like those lamps 
which emit a new glimmering flash, when they are just 
on the point of extinguishing. Alas ! how many snares 



LIGHTS AND SHADOWS 73 

were laid in my way! I met them at every step. I 
even committed infidelities through unwatchfulness. 
But, my Lord, with what rigor didst Thou punish 
them! A useless glance was checked as a sin. How 
many tears did those inadvertent faults cost me which 
I fell into, through a weak compliance, and even 
against my will ! Thou knowest, my Love, that Thy 
rigor, exercised after my slips, was not the motive of 
those tears which I shed. With what pleasure would I 
have suffered the most rigorous severity to have been 
cured of my infidelity; and to what severe chastise- 
ment did I not condemn myself ! 

When I was at Paris, and the clergy saw me so 
young, they appeared astonished. Those to whom I 
opened my state told me, that I could never enough 
thank God for the graces conferred on me; that if I 
knew them I should be amazed at them; and that if I 
were not faithful, I should be the most ungrateful of 
all creatures. Some declared that they never knew any 
woman whom God held so closely, and in so great a 
purity of conscience. I believe what rendered it so 
w r as the continual care Thou hadst over me, my God, 
making me feel Thy intimate presence, even as Thou 
hast promised it to us in Thy Gospel, — "If a man love 
me, my Father will love him, and We will come unto 
him, and make Our abode with him. John xiv. 23. 
Thou, my Love, wast my faithful Keeper, who didst 
defend my heart against all sorts of enemies, prevent- 
ing the least faults, or correcting them, when vivacity 
had occasioned their being committed. But alas! my 
dear Love, when Thou didst cease to watch for me, or 
left me to myself, how weak was I, and how easily did 
my enemies prevail over me ! Let others ascribe their 



74 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

victory to their own fidelity. As for me, I shall never 
attribute them to anything else than Thy paternal care 
over me. I have too often experienced, to my cost, 
what I should be without Thee, to presume in the least 
on any cares of my own. It is to Thee, and to Thee 
only, that I owe everything, my Deliverer; and my 
being indebted to Thee for it gives me infinite joy. 

While I was at Paris, I relaxed in my usual exer- 
cises, on account of the little time I had, and the dry- 
ness and distress which had seized my heart, the hand 
which sustained me being hid, and my Beloved with- 
drawn. I did many things which I should not, for I 
knew the extreme fondness which some had for me, 
and suffered them to express it, without checking it as 
I ought. I fell into other faults too, as having my neck 
a little too bare, though not nearly so much as others 
had. I wept bitterly because I plainly saw I was too 
remiss; and that was my torment. I sought all about 
for Him who had secretly inflamed my heart. I in- 
quired for tidings of Him. But alas ! hardly anybody 
knew Him. I cried, "Oh, Thou best beloved of my 
soul, hadst Thou been near me these disasters had not 
befallen me. Tell me where Thou f eedest, where Thou 
makest Thy flock to rest at noon, in the bright day of 
eternity, which is not, like the day of time, subject to 
night and eclipses ?" When I say that I spoke thus to 
Him, it is but to explain myself. In reality, it all 
passed almost in silence, for I could not speak. My 
heart had a language which was carried on without the 
sound of words, understood of its Well-beloved, as He 
understands the language of the Word ever eloquent 
which speaks incessantly in the innermost recesses of 
the soul. Oh, sacred language ! which experience only 



LIGHTS AND SHADOWS 75 

gives the comprehension of! Let not any think it a 
barren language, and effect of the mere imagination. 
Far different — it is the silent expression of the Word 
in the soul. As He never ceases to speak, so He never 
ceases to operate. If people once came to know the 
operations of the Lord, in souls wholly resigned to His 
guiding, it would fill them with reverential admiration 
and awe. 

As I saw that the purity of my state was like to be 
sullied by too great a commerce with the creatures, I 
made haste to finish what detained me at Paris, in 
order to return to the country. 'Tis true, my Lord, 
I felt that Thou hadst given me strength enough to 
avoid the occasions of evil — but when I had so far 
yielded as to get into them, I found I could not resist 
the vain complaisances, and a number of other foibles 
which they ensnared me into. The pain which I felt 
after my faults was inexpressible. It was not an 
anguish that arose from any distinct idea or concep- 
tion, from any particular motive or affection — but a 
kind of devouring fire which ceased not, till the fault 
was consumed and the soul purified by it. It was a 
banishment of my soul from the presence of its Be- 
loved, its Bridegroom. I could have no access to Him, 
neither could I have any rest out of Him. I knew not 
what to do. I was like the dove out of the ark, which 
finding no rest for the sole of her foot, was constrained 
to return to the ark; but, finding the window shut, 
could only fly about and about it. In the meantime, 
through an infidelity which will ever render me culpa- 
ble, I strove to find some satisfaction without, but 
could not. This served to convince me of my folly, 
and of the vanity of those pleasures which are called 



76 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

innocent. When I was prevailed on to taste them, I felt 
a strong repulse, which, joined with my remorse for 
the transgression, changed the diversion into torment. 
"Oh, my Father," said I, "this is not Thee; and noth- 
ing else, beside Thee, can give solid pleasure." 

One day, as much through unfaithfulness as com- 
plaisance, I went to take a walk at some of the public 
parks, rather from excess of vanity to show myself 
there, than to take the pleasure of the place. Oh, 
my Lord! how didst Thou make me sensible of this 
fault? But far from punishing me in letting me par- 
take of the amusement, Thou didst it in holding me so 
close to Thyself, that I could give no attention to any- 
thing but my fault and Thy displeasure. After this I 
was invited with some other ladies to an entertainment 
at St. Cloud. Through vanity and weak compliance, 
I yielded and went. The affair was magnificent; they, 
wise in the eye of the world, could relish it, but I 
was filled with bitterness. I could eat nothing. I 
could enjoy nothing, — my disquiet appeared on my 
countenance. Oh, what tears did it cost me! For 
above three months my Beloved withdrew His favoring 
presence, and I could see nothing but an angry God. 

After this, my husband, enjoying some intermission 
of his almost continual ailments, had a mind to go to 
Orleans, and from thence into Touraine. In this jour- 
ney my vanity made its last blaze. I received abun- 
dance of visits and applauses. But how clearly did I 
see the folly of men who are so taken with vain beauty ! 
I disliked the passion, yet not that in myself which 
caused it, though I sometimes ardently desired to be 
delivered from it. The continual combat of nature 
and grace cost me no small affliction. Nature was 



LIGHTS AND SHADOWS 77 

pleased with public applause ; but grace made me dread 
it. What augmented the temptation was, that they 
esteemed in me virtue, joined with youth and beauty, 
not knowing that all the virtue was only in God, and 
all the weakness in myself. 

I went in search of confessors, to accuse myself of 
my failings, and to bewail my backslidings ; but they 
were utterely insensible of my pain. They esteemed 
what God condemned. They treated as a virtue what 
to me appeared detestable in His sight. Far from 
measuring my faults by His graces, they only consid- 
ered what I was, in comparison of what I might have 
been. Hence, instead of blaming me, they only flat- 
tered my pride, and justified me in what incurred His 
rebuke; or only treated as a slight fault what in me 
was highly displeasing to Him, from whom I had 
received such signal mercies. 

The heinousness of sins is not to be measured singly 
by their nature, but also by the state of the person 
who commits them, as the least unfaithfulness in a 
spouse is more injurious to her husband, than far 
greater ones in his domestics. I told them all the 
trouble I had been under, for not having entirely cov- 
ered my neck, though it was covered much more than 
by other women of my age. They assured me that I 
was very modestly dressed; and as my husband liked 
my dress, there could be nothing amiss in it. My in- 
ward Director taught me quite the contrary; but I 
had not courage enough to follow Him, and to dress 
myself differently from others at my age. Beside, my 
vanity furnished me with pretences seemingly just, for 
following the fashions. Oh, if pastors knew what hurt 
they do in humoring female vanity, they would be 






78 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

more severe against it. Had I found but one person 
honest enough to deal plainly with me, I should not 
have gone on thus; no, not for a moment. But my 
vanity, siding with the declared opinion of all others, 
reduced me to think them in the right, and my owr 
scruples to be mere fancy. 

We met with accidents in this journey, sufficient to 
have terrified anyone ; and though corrupt nature pre- 
vailed so far as I have just mentioned, yet my resigna- 
tion to God was so strong, that I passed fearless, even 
where there was apparently no possibility of escape. 
At one time we got into a narrow pass, and did not 
perceive, until we were too far advanced to draw back, 
that the road was undermined by the river Loire, which 
ran beneath, and the banks had fallen in, so that in 
some places the footmen were obliged to support one 
side of the carriage. All around me were terrified to 
the highest degree, yet God kept me perfectly tran- 
quil. 

On my return, I went to see Mrs. Granger, to whom 
I related how it had been with me while abroad. She 
strengthened and encouraged me to pursue my first 
design, and she advised me to cover my neck entirely, 
which I have done ever since, notwithstanding the 
singularity of it. 

The Lord, who had so long deferred the chastise- 
ment merited by such a series of infidelities, now began 
to punish me with double rigor for the abuse of His 
grace. Sometimes I wished to retire to a convent, and 
thought it lawful, as I judged it impossible to corre- 
spond so fully with the divine operations, whilst en- 
gaged in worldly matters. I found wherein I was 
weak, and that my faults were always of the same 



LIGHTS AND SHADOWS 79 

nature; it was therefore I sought so ardently to shun 
the occasion. I wished to hide myself in some cave, 
or to be confined in a dreary prison, rather than enjoy 
a liberty by which I suffered so much. Divine Love 
gently drew me inward, and vanity dragged me out- 
ward, and my heart was rent asunder by the contest, 
as I neither gave myself wholly up to the one nor the 
other. 

I besought my God to deprive me of power to dis- 
please Him, and cried, — "Art Thou not strong enough 
wholly to eradicate this unjust duplicity out of my 
heart V For my vanity broke forth when occasions 
offered ; yet I quickly returned to God, and He, instead 
of repulsing or upbraiding me, often received me with 
open arms, and gave me fresh testimonials of His love, 
which filled me with the most painful reflections on my 
offence; for though this wretched vanity was still so 
prevalent, yet my love to God was such, that after my 
wanderings, I would rather have chosen His rod than 
His caresses. His interests, so to speak, were more 
dear to me than my own, and I wished He would have 
done Himself justice upon me. My heart was full of 
grief and of love, and I was stung to the quick for 
offending Him, who showered His grace so profusely 
upon me. 



X. THE FURNACE OF AFFLICTION. 



ON my arrival at home, I found my husband 
taken with the gout, and his other complaints, 
my little daughter ill, and like to die of the 
smallpox; my eldest son, too, took it, and it was of 
so malignant a type, that it rendered him as disfigured, 
as before he was beautiful. As soon as I perceived the 
small-pox was in the house, I had no doubt but I should 
take it. Mrs. Granger advised me to leave if I could. 
My father offered to take me home, with my second 
son, whom I tenderly loved, but my mother-in-law 
would not suffer it. She persuaded my husband it was 
useless, and sent for a physician, who seconded her in 
it, saying, "I should as readily take it at a distance as 
here, if I were disposed to take it." Had she known 
what followed, I doubt not but she would have acted 
otherwise. All the town stirred in this affair. Every- 
one begged her to send me out of the house, and cried 
out that it was cruel to expose me thus. They set upon 
me, too, imagining I was unwilling to go ; for I had not 
told that she was so averse to it. I had at that time no 
other disposition, than to sacrifice myself to divine 
Providence, and though I might have removed, not- 
withstanding my mother-in-law's resistance, yet I 
would not without her consent, because it looked to 
me as if her resistance was order from heaven. Oh, 
divine will of my Lord ! Thou wast then my only life, 
in the midst of all my miseries. 

I continued in this spirit of sacrifice to God, wait- 
ing from moment to moment in an entire resignation, 



THE FURNACE OF AFFLICTION 81 

for whatever He should be pleased to ordain. I cannot 
express what nature suffered, for I was like one who 
sees both certain death and an easy remedy, without 
being able to avoid the former, or try the latter. I 
had no less apprehension for my younger son than for 
myself. My mother-in-law so excessively doted on 
the eldest, that the rest of us were indifferent to her. 
Yet I am assured, if she had known that the younger 
would have died of the small-pox, she would not have 
acted as she did. God makes use of creatures, and 
their natural inclinations to accomplish His designs. 
When I see in the creatures a conduct which appears 
unreasonable and mortifying, I mount higher, and look 
upon them as instruments both of the mercy and jus- 
tice of God, for His justice is full of mercy. 

When I told my husband that my stomach was sick, 
and that I was taking the small-pox, he said it was 
only imagination. I let Mrs. Granger know the situa- 
tion I was in. As she had a tender heart, she was 
affected by the treatment I met with, and encouraged 
me to offer myself up to the Lord. At length, nature 
finding there was no resource, consented to the sacri- 
fic which my spirit had already made. The disorder 
gained ground apace, — I was seized with a great shiv- 
ering, and a pain both in my head and stomach. They 
would not yet believe that I was sick, but in a few 
hours it went so far, that they thought my life in dan- 
ger ; for I was also taken with an inflammation on my 
lungs, and the remedies for the one disorder were con- 
trary to the other. My mother-in-law's favorite physi- 
cian was not in town, nor the resident surgeon. An- 
other surgeon was sent for, who said I must be bled; 
but my mother-in-law would not suffer it at that time 



82 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

to be done. So little attention was paid me, that I 
was on the point of death for the want of proper as- 
sistance. My husband, not being able to see me, left 
me entirely to his mother. She would not allow any 
physician but her own to prescribe for me, and yet did 
not send for him, though he was within a day's journey 
of us. In this extremity I opened not my mouth to 
request any succor. I looked for life or death from 
the hand of God, without testifying the least uneasiness 
at such extraordinary conduct. The peace I enjoyed 
within, on account of that perfect resignation, in which 
God kept me by His grace, was so great, that it made 
me forget myself, in the midst of such violent and op- 
pressive disorders. 

But the Lord's protection was indeed wonderful. 
How oft have I been reduced to extremity, yet He never 
failed to succor, when things appeared most des- 
perate. It pleased Him so to order it, that a skilful 
surgeon, who had attended me before, passing by our 
house, inquired after me. They told him I was ex- 
tremely ill. He alighted immediately, and came in to 
see me. Never was a man more surprised, when he 
saw the frightful condition I was in. The small-pox, 
which could not come out, had fallen on my nose with 
such force, that it was quite black. He thought there 
had been a gangrene in it, and that it was going to 
fall off. My eyes were like two coals; but I was not 
alarmed, for at that time I could have made a sacrifice 
of all things, and was pleased that God should avenge 
Himself on that face, which had betrayed me into so 
many infidelities. He was so affrighted that he could 
not hide his surprise, and went into my mother-in-law's 
chamber and told her, it was most shameful to let 






THE FURNACE OF AFFLICTION 83 

me die in that manner, for want of bleeding. She still 
opposed it violently; in short, she told him flatly she 
would not suffer it, until the physician returned. He 
flew into such a rage at seeing me thus left without 
sending for the physician, that he reproved my mother- 
in-law in the severest manner, but all in vain. Upon 
that he came up again presently into my chamber, and 
said, "If you choose, I will bleed you, and save your 
life.'' I held out my arm to him, and though it was 
extremely swelled, he bled me in an instant. My 
mother-in-law was in a violent passion about it. The 
small-pox came out immediately and he ordered that 
they should get me bled again in the evening, but she 
would not suffer it; and for fear of displeasing my 
mother-in-law, and through a total resignation of my- 
self into the hands of God, I durst not retain him, 
whatever occasion I had for it. 

I am more particular in this relation, to show how 
advantageous it is to resign one's self to God without 
reserve. Though in appearance He leaves us for a 
time to prove and exercise our faith, yet He never fails 
us, when our need of Him is the more pressing. One 
may say with the Scripture, "It is God who bringeth 
down to the gates of death, and raiseth up again.' ' The 
blackness and swelling of my nose went off, and I 
believe, had they continued to bleed me, I had been 
pretty easy ; but for want of that I grew worse again. 
The malady fell into my eyes and inflamed them with 
such severe pain that I thought I should lose them both. 

I had those violent pains for three weeks, during 
which I got very little sleep. I could not shut my 
eyes, they were so full of the small-pox, nor open them 
by reason of the pain I endured. There was the great- 



84 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

est probability that I should lose my sight, but I was 
wholly reconciled to the loss. My throat, palate, and 
gums were likewise so filled with the pock, that I could 
not swallow broth or take any nourishment without 
suffering extremely. My whole body looked like that 
of a leper. All that saw me said they had never seen 
such a shocking spectacle. But as to my soul, it was 
kept in a contentment not to be expressed. The hopes 
of its liberty, by the loss of that beauty which had so 
frequently brought me under bondage, rendered me so 
well satisfied, and so united to God, that I would not 
have changed my condition for that of the most happy 
prince in the world. 

Everyone thought I would be inconsolable, and sev- 
eral expressed their sympathy in my sad condition, as 
they judged it ; while I lay still, in the secret fruition 
of a joy unspeakable, in this total deprivation of what 
had been a snare to my pride, and to the passions of 
men. I praised God in profound silence. None ever 
heard any complaints from me, either of my pains or 
the loss I sustained. The only thing that I said was 
that I rejoiced at, and was exceedingly thankful, for the 
interior liberty I gained thereby; and they construed 
this as a great crime. My confessor, who had been dis- 
satisfied with me before, came to see me. He asked me 
if I was not sorry for having the small-pox, and he now 
taxed me with pride for my answer. 

My youngest little boy took the distemper the same 
day with myself, and died for want of care. This blow 
indeed struck me to the heart, but yet, drawing 
strength from my weakness, I offered him up, and said 
to God as Job did, "Thou gavest him to me, and Thou 
takest him from me; blessed be Thy holy name." The 



THE FURNACE OF AFFLICTION 85 

spirit of sacrifice possessed me so strongly, that, though 
I loved this child tenderly, I never shed a tear at hear- 
ing of his death. The day he was buried, the doctor 
sent to tell me he had not placed a tombstone upon his 
grave, because my little girl could not survive him two 
days. My eldest son was not yet out of danger, so that 
I saw myself stripped of all my children at once, my 
husband indisposed, and myself extremely so. The 
Lord did not take my little girl then. He prolonged 
her life some years. 

At last my mother-in-law's physician arrived, at a 
time wherein he could be of but little service to me. 
When he saw the strange inflammation in my eyes, he 
bled me several times, but it was too late. And those 
bleedings which would have been so proper at first, 
did nothing but weaken me now. They could not even 
bleed me in the condition I was in, but with the great- 
est difficulty, for my arms were so swelled, that the 
surgeon was obliged to push in the lance to a great 
depth. Moreover, the bleeding being out of season had 
liked to have caused my death. This, I confess, would 
have been very agreeable to me. I looked upon death 
as the greatest blessing for me. Yet I saw well I 
had nothing to hope on that side, and that instead of 
meeting with so desirable an event, I must prepare 
myself to support the trials of life. 

After my eldest son was better, he got up and came 
into my chamber. I was surprised at the extraordinary 
change I saw in him. His face, lately so fair and beau- 
tiful, was become like a coarse spot of earth, all full of 
furrows. That gave me the curiosity to view myself in 
the looking-glass. I felt shocked, for I saw that God 
had ordered the sacrifice in all its reality. 



86 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

I was as a victim incessantly offered upon the altar, 
to Him who first sacrificed Himself for love. "What 
shall I render to the Lord, for all His benefits toward 
me ? I will take the cup of salvation, and call upon the 
name of the Lord." These words, I can truly say, 
my God, have been the delight of my heart, and have 
had their effect on me, through my whole life, for I 
have been continually heaped with Thy blessings and 
Thy crosses. My principal attraction, besides that of 
suffering for Thee, has been to yield myself up without 
resistance, interiorly and exteriorly, to all Thy divine 
disposals. 

They sent me pomatums to recover my complexion, 
and to fill up the hollows of the small-pox. I had seen 
wonderful effects from it upon others, and therefore at 
first had a mind to try them. But Love, jealous of His 
work, would not suffer it. There was a voice in my 
heart which said, "If I would have had thee fair, I 
would have left thee as thou wert." I was therefore 
obliged to lay aside every remedy, and to go into the 
air, which made the pitting worse ; and to expose my- 
self in the street to the eyes of everyone, when the 
redness of the small-pox was at the worst, in order to 
make my humiliation triumph, where I had exalted my 
pride. 

My husband kept his bed almost all that time, and 
made good use of his indisposition. Only as he now 
lost that, which before gave him so much pleasure in 
viewing me, he grew much more susceptible of impres- 
sions which any gave him against me. In consequence 
of this, the persons who spoke to him of my disadvan- 
tage, finding themselves now better hearkened to, spoke 
more boldly and more frequently. There was only 
Thou, my God, who changed not for me. 



XI. IN THE WILL OF GOD. 



MY waiting-maid became every day more 
haughty. Seeing that her scoldings and out- 
cries did not now torture me, she thought, if 
she could hinder me from going to the communion, she 
would give me the greatest of all vexations. She was 
not mistaken, divine Spouse of pure souls, since the 
only satisfaction of my life was to receive and to honor 
Thee. I gave everything, of the finest I had, to furnish 
the Churches with ornaments, and contributed to the 
utmost extent of my abilities, to make them have silver 
plates and chalices. "Oh, my Love/' I cried, "let me 
be Thy victim! Spare nothing to annihilate me." I 
felt an inexpressible longing to be more reduced, and 
to become, as it were, nothing. 

This girl then knew my affection for the holy sacra- 
ment, where, when I could have liberty for it, I passed 
several hours on my knees. She took it in her head to 
watch me daily. When she discovered me going 
thither, she ran to tell my mother-in-law and my hus- 
band. They needed no more to chagrin them. Their 
invectives lasted the whole day. If a word escaped me 
in my own justification, it was enough to make them 
say I was guilty of sacrilege, and to raise an outcry 
against all devotion. If I made them no answer at all, 
they still heightened their indignation, and said the 
most grating things they could devise. If I fell sick, 
which often happened, they took occasion to come to 
quarrel with me in my bed, saying, my communion and 
prayers were what made me sick, as if there had been 



88 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

nothing else could make me ill, but my devotion to 
Thee, my Beloved ! 

She told me one day, in her passion, that she was 
going to write to him who she thought was my direc- 
tor, to get him to stop me from going to the commun- 
ion, for that he did not know me. And when I made 
her no answer, she cried out as loud as sha could, that 
I treated her ill and despised her. When I went out 
to go to prayers (though I had taken care to arrange 
everything about the house), she ran to tell my hus- 
band that I was going abroad, and had left nothing 
in order. When I returned home, rage fell on me in 
all its violence. They would hear none of my reasons, 
but said they were all a pack of lies. My mother- 
in-law persuaded my husband that I let everything 
go to wreck, and that if she did not take the care of 
things, he would be ruined. He believed it, and I bore 
all with patience, endeavoring, as well as I could, to 
my duty. What gave most trouble was the not kno 
ing what course to take ; for when I ordered anythinlg 
without her, she complained that I showed her nlo 
respect, that I did things of my own head, and thaft 
they were done always the worse for it. Then shp 
would order them quite contrary. If I consulted her | 
to know what or how she would have anything to be i 
done, she said I compelled her to have the care and 
trouble of everything. 

I had scarcely any rest but what I found in the 
love of Thy will, my God, and submission to Thy 
orders, however rigorous they might be. They inces- 
santly watched my words and actions, to find occasion 
against me. They chided me all the day long, contin- 



IN THE WILL OF GOD 89 

ually repeating, and harping over and over the same 
things, and that even before the servants. 

Yet, if I happened to be for some days freed from 
the exterior cross, it was a most sensible distress to me, 
and indeed a punishment more difficult to bear than the 
severest trials. I then comprehended what St. Teresa 
says, "Let me suffer or die." For this absence of the 
cross was so grievous to me, that I languished with the 
ardency of desire for its return. But no sooner was 
this earnest longing granted, and the blessed cross 
returned again, than strange as it may seem, it ap- 
peared so weighty and burdensome, as to be almost 
insupportable. 

Though I loved my father extremely, and he loved 
me very tenderly, yet I never spoke to him of my suf- 
ferings. One of my relations, who loved me very much, 
perceived the little moderation they used toward me. 
They spoke very roughly to me before him. He was 
highly displeased, and told my father of it, adding, 
that I would pass for a fool. Soon after I went to see 
my father, who, contrary to his custom, sharply repri- 
manded me, for suffering them to treat me in such a 
manner, without saying anything in my own defence, 
adding, everyone talked of me for it; that it looked 
as if I had neither sense nor spirit to vindicate myself. 
I answered, "If they knew what my husband said to 
me, that was confusion enough for me, without my 
bringing any more of it on myself by replies; that if 
they did not notice it, I ought not to cause it to be 
observed, nor expose my husband's weakness; that re- 
maining silent stopped all disputes, whereas I might 
cause them to be continued and increased, by my re- 
plies.' ' My father answered, I did well, and that I 



90 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

should continue to act as Uod should inspire me. And 
after that, he never spoke to me of it any more. 

They were ever talking to me against my father, 
my relations, and all such as I esteemed most. I felt 
this more keenly than all they could say against myself. 
I could not forbear defending them, and therein I did 
wrong; as whatever I said served only to provoke 
them. If any complained of my father or relations, 
they were always in the right. If any, whom they had 
disliked before, spoke against them, they were present- 
ly approved of. If any showed friendship to me, such 
were not welcome. A relation whom I greatly loved 
for her piety, coming to see me, they treated her in 
such a manner as obliged her to go, which gave me no 
small uneasiness. When any person of distinction 
came, they would speak against me, even to those who 
knew me not, which surprised them. 

It mattered not what they said against me, Love 
would not allow me to justify myself. I spoke not to 
my husband of what either my mother-in-law or the 
girl did to me, except the first year, when I was not 
sufficiently touched with the power of God, to suffer 
such treatment. Nay, I did more than this, for as my 
mother-in-law and my husband were both passionate, 
they often quarreled. Then I was in favor, and to me 
they made their mutual complaints. I never told the 
one what the other had said. And though it might 
have been of service to me, humanly speaking, to take 
advantage of such opportunities, I never made use of 
them to complain of either. Nay, on the contrary, I did 
not rest till I had reconciled them. I spoke many 
obliging things of the one to the other, which always 
made them friends again, though I knew by frequent 



IN THE WILL OF GOD 91 

experience that I should pay dear for their re-union. 
For scarcely were they reconciled, but they joined 
together against me. 

All my crosses to me would have seemed little, if I 
might have had liberty to pray, and to be alone, to 
indulge the interior attraction which I felt. But I was 
obliged still to continue in their presence, with such a 
subjection as is scarcely conceivable. My husband 
looked at his watch, if at any time I had liberty al- 
lowed me for prayer, to see if I stayed above half an 
hour. If I exceeded it, he grew very uneasy. Some- 
times I said to him, ' ' Grant me one hour to divert and 
employ myself as I have a mind." And though he 
would have granted it to me for other diversions, yet 
for prayer he would not. I confess that inexperience 
caused me much trouble, and I have often thereby 
given occasion for what they made me suffer. For 
ought I not to have looked on my captivity as an effect 
of the will of my God, to content myself therein, and to 
make it my only desire and prayer? But I often fell 
back again into the anxiety of wishing to get time for 
prayer, which was not agreeable to my husband. It is 
true, those faults were more frequent in the beginning. 
Afterwards I prayed to God in His own retreat, in the 
temple of my heart, and then I went out no more. 

We went into the country, where I committed many 
faults, letting myself go too much after my inward 
attraction. I thought I might do it then because my 
husband diverted himself with building. If I stayed 
from him he was dissatisfied, which sometimes hap- 
pened, as he was continually talking with the work- 
men. I set myself in a corner, and there had my work 
with me, but could scarcely do anything by reason of 



92 LIFE OF MADAM GUYOX 

the force of the attraction which made the work fall 
out of my hands. I passed whole hours this way, with- 
out being able either to open my eyes or know what 
passed in me; but I had nothing to wish for, nor yet 
to be afraid of. Everywhere I found my proper center, 
because everywhere I found God. 

My heart could then desire nothing but what it had ; 
for this disposition extinguished all its desires; and 
I sometimes said to myself, "What wantest thou? 
What fearest thou?" And I was surprised to find upon 
trial that I had nothing to fear. Every place I was in 
was my proper place. 

When I wanted to hear from, or write to Mother 
Granger, I often felt a strong propensity to go to the 
door. There I found a messenger with a letter from 
her, which could not have fallen into my hands but for 
that. But this is only a small instance of these con- 
tinual providences. She was the only person I could 
be free to open my state to, when I could get to see 
her, which was with the greatest difficulty, and through 
providential assistance; having not only been prohib- 
ited by my confessor and my husband, but all means 
that could be devised were put in practice by my 
mother-in-law to prevent it. I placed an extreme con- 
fidence in Mother Granger. I concealed nothing from 
her, either of my sins or my pains. I would not have 
done the least thing without telling her. There was 
nothing which I kept from her but my interior dispo- 
sitions; those I was scarcely able to tell, because I 
knew not how to explain myself thereon, being very 
ignorant of those matters, having never read or heard 
of them. 



IN THE WILL OF GOD 93 

One day when they thought I was going to see my 
father, I ran off to Mother Granger. It was discovered, 
and cost me such crosses as I cannot express. Their 
rage against me was so excessive, that it would be 
incredible. Even my writing to her was extremely 
difficult. For as I had the utmost abhorrence of a lie, 
I forbade the footman to tell any. When they were 
met they were asked whither they were going, and if 
they had any letters. My mother-in-law set herself in 
a little passage, through which those who went out 
must necessarily pass by her. She asked them whither 
they were going and what they carried. Sometimes 
going on foot to the Benedictines, I caused shoes to be 
carried, that they might not perceive by the dirty ones 
that I had been far. I durst not go alone; and those 
who attended me had orders to tell every place I went 
to. If they were discovered to fail in doing it, they 
were either corrected or discharged. 

My husband and mother-in-law were always inveigh- 
ing against that good woman, though in reality they 
esteemed her. I sometimes made my own complaint 
to her: and she replied, "How should you content 
them, when I have been doing all in my power for 
these twenty years' to satisfy them without success V 
For as my mother-in-law had two daughters under her 
care, she was always finding something to say against 
everything she did in regard to them. 

But the most grievous cross to me now was the re- 
volting of my own son against me, whom they inspired 
with so great a contempt for me, that I could not bear 
to see him without extreme affliction. When I was 
in my chamber with some of my friends, they sent 
him to listen to what we said; and as he saw this 



94 UPB OP MADAM GUY ON 

pleased them, he invented a hundred things to tell 
them. What gave me the severest pang was the loss 
of my child. If I caught him in a lie, as I frequently 
did, he would upbraid me, saying, "My grandmother 
says you have been a greater liar than I." I answered 
him, ' ' Therefore I know the deformity of that vice, and 
how hard a thing it is to get the better of it ; and for 
this reason, I would not have you suffer the like." He 
spoke to me things very offensive, and because he saw 
the awe I stood in of his grandmother and his father, 
if in their absence I found fault with him for anything, 
he insultingly upbraided me, and said that now I 
wanted to set up for his mistress, because they were 
not there. All this they approved of, in so much as 
to strengthen him in his most perverse inclinations. 
One day he went to see my father, and rashly began 
talking against me to him, as he was used to do to his 
grandmother. But there it did not meet with the same 
recompense. It affected my father to tears. He came 
to our house to desire he might be corrected for it. 
They promised it should be done, and yet they never 
did it. I was grievously afraid of the consequences of 
so bad an education. I told Mother Granger of it, 
who consoled me, and said that since I could not rem- 
edy it, I must suffer and leave everything to God, and 
that this child would be my cross. 






XII. EARTHLY LOSSES ; HEAVENLY GAINS. 



ABOUT eight or nine months after my recovery 
from the small-pox, Father La Combe, passing 
by our house, brought me a letter from 
Father de la Mothe, recommending him to my esteem, 
and expressing the highest friendship for him. I hesi- 
tated much, for I was very loth to make new acquaint- 
ances, but the fear of offending my brother prevailed. 
After a short conversation we both desired a farther 
opportunity. I thought that he either loved God, or 
was disposed to love Him, and I wished everybody to 
love Him. God had already made use of me for the 
conversion of three of his order. The strong desire he 
had of seeing me again induced him to come to our 
country house, which was about half a league from the 
town. A little incident which happened, opened a way 
for me to speak to him. As he was in discourse with 
my husband, who relished his company, he was taken 
ill, and retired into the garden. My husband bade me 
go and see what was the matter with him. He told me 
he had remarked in my countenance a deep inwardness 
and presence of God, which had given him a strong 
desire of seeing me again. And God then assisted me 
to open to him the interior path of the soul, and con- 
veyed so much grace to him through this poor channel, 
that he has owned to me since, that he went away 
changed into quite another man. I preserved an es- 
teem for him, for it appeared to me that he would be 
devoted to God; but little did I then foresee that I 
should ever be led to the place where he was to reside. 



96 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

My disposition at this time, as I have said, was a 
continual prayer, without knowing it to be such; for 
the presence of God was so plentifully given, that it 
seemed to be more in me than my very self. The sen- 
sibility thereof was so powerful, so penetrating, it 
seemed to me irresistible; and Love took from me all 
liberty of my own. At other times I was so dry, I felt 
nothing but the pain of absence, which was the keener 
to me, as the divine Presence had before been so sensi- 
ble. In these alternatives, when Love was present, I 
forgot in such a manner all my troubles and pains, that 
it appeared to me as if I had never experienced any. 
And, in its absence, it seemed as if it would never 
return again. I still thought it was through some fault 
of mine it was withdrawn, and that rendered me incon- 
solable. Had I known it had been a state through 
which it was necessary to pass, I should not have been 
troubled ; for my strong love to the will of God would 
have rendered everything easy to me ; the property of 
this prayer being to give a great love to the order of 
God, with so sublime and perfect a reliance on Him, as 
to fear nothing, whether danger, thunders, spirits, or 
death. It gives a great abstraction from one 's self, our 
own interests and reputation, with an utter disregard 
to every thing of the kind; all being swallowed up in 
the esteem of the will of God. 

At home, I was accused of everything that was ill 
done, spoiled or broken. At first I told the truth, and 
said it was not I. They persisted, and accused me of 
lying. I then made no reply. Besides, they told all 
their tales to such as came to the house. But when I 
was afterwards alone with the same persons, I never 
undeceived them. I often heard such things said of 



EARTHLY LOSSES; HE A VENLY GAINS 97 

me, before my friends, as were enough to make them 
entertain a bad opinion of me. My heart kept its hab- 
itation in the tacit consciousness of my own innocence, 
not concerning myself whether they thought well or ill 
of me, excluding all the world, all opinions or censures, 
out of my view, and minding nothing else but the 
friendship of God only. 

If through infidelity I happened at any time to 
justify myself, I always failed, and drew upon myself 
new crosses, both within and without. But notwith- 
standing all this, I was so enamored with it, that the 
greatest cross of all would have been to be without any. 
When the cross was taken from me for any short space, 
it seemed to me that it was because of the bad use I 
made of it ; and that my unfaithfulness deprived me of 
so great an advantage ; for I never knew its value better 
than in its loss. Oh, dear cross, my faithful companion ! 
As my Savior became incarnate, only to die in thy 
arms, should I not be conformable to Him in that? 
And wilt not thou be the means of uniting me to Him 
forever? my Love, I cried, punish me any way, but 
take not the cross from me. This amiable cross re- 
turned to me with so much the more weight, as my 
desire was more vehement. I could not reconcile two 
things, they appeared to me so very opposite ; viz., To 
desire the cross with so much ardor, and to support it 
with so much difficulty and pain. 

God knows well, in the admirable economy He ob- 
serves how to render the crosses more weighty, con- 
formable to the ability of the creature to bear them, 
giving them always something new and unexpected. 
Hereby my soul began to be more resigned, and to* 
comprehend that the state of absence, and of wanting 






98 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

what I longed for, was in its turn more profitable than 
that of always abounding; because this latter nour- 
ished self-love. If God did not act thus, the soul would 
never die to itself. That principle of self-love is so 
crafty and dangerous, that it cleaves to everything. 

What gave me most uneasiness, in this time of 
darkness and crucifixion, both within and without, was 
an inconceivable readiness to be quick and hasty. 
When any answer a little too lively escaped me (which 
served not a little to humble me), they said I was 
fallen into a mortal sin. A conduct no less rigorous 
than this was quite necessary for me, for I was so 
proud, passionate, and of a humor naturally thwarting, 
wanting always to carry matters my own way, and 
thinking my own reasons better than those of others, 
that, hadst Thou, my God, spared the strokes of Thy 
hammer, I should never have been formed to Thy will, 
to be an instrument for Thy use ; for I was ridiculously 
vain. Applause rendered me intolerable. I praised 
my friends to excess, and blamed others without rea- 
son. But, the more criminal I have been, the more I 
am indebted to Thee, and the less of any good can I 
attribute to myself. 

In acts of charity I was very assiduous. So great 
was my tenderness for the poor, that I wished to have 
supplied all their wants. I could not see their neces- 
sity without reproaching myself for the plenty I en- 
joyed. I deprived, myself of all I could to help them. 
The Very- best at my table was distributed among them. 
There were few of the poor where I lived, who did not 
partake of my liberality. It seemed as if Thou hadst 
made me Thy only almoner there, for being refused by 
others, they all came to me. "Oh, my divine Love," 






EARTHLY LOSSES; HE A VENLY GAINS 99 

I cried, "it is Thy substance; I am only the steward. 
I ought to distribute it according to Thy will. ' ' I found 
means to relieve them without letting myself be known, 
because I had one who dispensed my alms privately. 
When there were families who were ashamed to take it 
in this way, I sent it to them as if I owed them a debt. 
I clothed such as were naked, and caused young girls 
to be taught how to earn their livelihood, especially 
such as were handsome; to the end that being em- 
ployed, and having whereon to live, they might not be 
under a temptation to throw themselves away. God 
made use of me to reclaim several from their disor- 
derly lives; and there was one of beauty and distinc- 
tion, who has since made a happy end. I went to visit 
the sick, to comfort them, to make their beds. I made 
ointments, dressed their wounds, buried their dead. I 
privately furnished tradesmen and mechanics where- 
with to keep up their shops. My heart was much 
opened toward my fellow-creatures in distress, and 
few indeed could carry charity much farther than our 
Lord enabled me to do, according to my state, both 
while married and since. 

To resume the thread of my history, the small-pox 
had so much hurt one of my eyes, that it was feared I 
would lose it. The gland at the corner of my eye was 
much injured. An imposthume arose from time to 
tirae between the nose and the eye, which gave me 
exquisite pain till it was lanced. It swelled all my 
head to that degree, that I could not bear even a pil- 
low. The least noise was agony to me, though some- 
times they made a great commotion in my chamber. 
And yet this was a precious time to me, for two rea- 
sons : the first, because I was left in bed alone, where I 



100 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

had a sweet retreat without interruption; the other, 
because it answered the desire I had for suffering, — 
which desire was so great, that all the austerities of 
the body would have been but as a drop of water to 
quench so great a fire; and indeed the severities and 
rigors which I then exercised were extreme — but they 
did not appease this appetite for the cross. It is Thou 
alone, crucified Savior, who canst make the cross 
truly effectual for the death of self. Let others bless 
themselves in their ease or gaiety, grandeur or pleas- 
ures, poor temporary heavens; as for me, my desires 
were all turned another way, even to the silent path of 
suffering for Christ, and to be united to Him, through 
the mortification of all that was of nature in me, that 
my senses, appetites and will, being dead to these, 
might wholly live in Him. 

I obtained leave to go to Paris for the cure of my 
eye; and yet it was much more through the desire I 
had to see Monsieur Bertot, a man of profound experi- 
ence, whom Mother Granger had lately assigned to me 
for my director. I went to take leave of my father, 
who embraced me with peculiar tenderness, little think- 
ing then that it would be our last adieu. 

Paris was a place now no longer to be dreaded as 
in times past. The throngs only served to draw me 
into a deep recollection, and the noise of the streets 
but augmented my inward prayer. I saw Monsieur 
Bertot, who did not prove of that service to me, which 
he would have been if I had then- the power to explain 
myself; but though I wished earnestly to hide nothing 
from him, yet God held me so closely to Him, that I 
could scarcely tell him anything at all. As soon as I 
spoke to him, everything vanished from my mind, 



EARTHLY LOSSES; HE A VENLY GAINS 101 

so that I could remember nothing but some few faults 
which I told him. As I saw him very seldom, and 
nothing stayed in my recollection, and as I read of 
nothing any way resembling my case, I knew not how 
to open myself upon it. Besides, I desired to make 
nothing known, but the evil which was in me. There- 
fore Monsieur Bertot knew me not, even till his death. 
This was of great utility to me, by taking away every 
support, and making me truly die to myself. 

I went to pass the ten days, from the Ascension to 
Whitsuntide, at an abbey four leagues from Paris, the 
abbess of which had a particular friendship for me. 
Here my union with God seemed to be deeper and 
more continued, becoming always simple, but at the 
same time more close and intimate. 

One day I awoke suddenly at four o'clock in the 
morning, with a strong impression on my mind that 
my father was dead ; and though at the same time my 
soul was in a very great contentment , yet my love for 
him affected it with sorrow, and my body with weak- 
ness. Under the strokes and daily troubles which 
befell me, my will was so subservient to Thine, 
my God, that it appeared absolutely united to it. 
There seemed, indeed, to be no will left in me but 
Thine only. My own disappeared, and no desires, ten- 
dencies or inclinations were left, but to the one sole 
object of whatever was most pleasing to Thee, be it 
what it would. If I had a will, it was in union with 
Thine, as two well tuned lutes in concert, — that which 
is not touched renders the same sound as that which 
is touched; it is but one and the same sound, one 
pure harmony. It is this union of the will which 
establishes in perfect peace. Yet, though my own will 



102 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

was lost, as to its operations, I have found since, in the 
strange states I have been obliged to pass through, 
how much it had yet to cost me to have it totally lost, 
as to all its properties in all the circumstances, and 
whole extent thereof, so that the soul should retain 
no more any interest or desire of its own, of either 
time or eternity, but only the interest of God alone, in 
the manner that is known to Himself, and not in our 
way of conceiving. How many souls are there which 
think their own wills quite lost, while they are yet very 
far from it ! They would find they still subsist, if they 
met with severe trials. Who is there who does not 
wish something for himself, either of interest, wealth, 
honor, pleasure, conveniency, liberty, etc.? And he 
who thinks his mind loose from all these objects, 
because he possesses them, would soon perceive his 
attachment to them, were he stripped of those he is 
possessed of. If there are found in a whole age three 
persons so dead to everything, as to be utterly resigned 
to Providence without any exception, they may well 
pass for prodigies of grace. 

In the afternoon as I was with the abbess, I told 
her I had strong presentiments of my father's death. 
Indeed I could hardly speak, I was so affected within, 
and enfeebled without. Presently one came to tell her 
that she was wanted in the parlor. It was a messenger 
come in haste, with an account from my husband that 
my father was ill. And as I afterwards found, he suf- 
fered only twelve hours. He was therefore by this 
time dead. The abbess returning, says, "Here is a 
letter from your husband, who writes that your father 
is taken violently iH. M I said to her, "He is dead, I 
cannot have a doubt about it." I sent away to Paris 



EARTHLY LOSSES; HEAVENLY GAINS 103 

immediately, to hire a coach, to go the sooner; mine 
waited for me at the midway. I went off at nine 
o'clock at night. They said I was going to destroy 
myself for I had no acquaintance with me, as I had 
sent away my maid to Paris, to put everything in 
order there, and being in a religious house, I had no 
mind to keep any footman with me. The abbess told 
me that since I thought my father was dead, it would 
be rashness in me to expose myself, and run the risk 
of my life in that manner; that coaches could hardly 
pass the way I was going, it being no beaten road. 
I answered that it was my indispensable duty to go 
to assist my father, and that I ought not, on a bare 
apprehension, to exempt myself from it. I then went 
alone, abandoned to Providence, with people unknown. 
My weakness was so great, that I could hardly keep 
my seat in the coach, and yet I was often forced to 
alight, on account of dangerous places in the road. 

In this way I was obliged, about midnight, to cross 
a forest, notorious for murders and robberies. The 
most intrepid dreaded it, but my resignation left me 
scarce any room to think at all about it. Oh, what 
fears and uneasiness does a resigned soul spare itself 1 
Thus all alone I arrived within five leagues of my own 
habitation, where I found my confessor who had 
opposed me, with one of my relations, waiting for me. 
The sweet consolation I had enjoyed, when alone, was 
now interrupted. My confessor, ignorant of my state, 
restrained me entirely. My grief was of such a nature 
that I could not shed a tear. And I was ashamed to 
hear a thing which I knew but too well, without giving 
any exterior mark of grief. The inward and profound 
peace I enjoyed dawned on my countenance, and the 



104 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

state I was in did not permit me to speak, or to do 
such things as are usually expected from persons of 
piety. I could do nothing but love and be silent. 

I found on my arrival at home, that my father was 
already buried, on account of the excessive heat. It 
was ten o'clock at night. All wore the habit of mourn- 
ing. I had traveled thirty leagues in a day and a night. 
As I was very weak, not having taken any nourishment, 
I was instantly put to bed. 

About two o'clock in the morning my husband got 
up, and having gone out of my chamber, he returned 
presently, crying out with all his might, l c My daughter 
is dead!" She was my only daughter, as dearly be- 
loved as truly lovely. She had so many graces, both 
of body and mind conferred on her, that one must have 
been insensible not to have loved her. She had an 
extraordinary share of love to God. Often was she 
found in corners at prayer. As soon as she perceived 
me at prayer, she came and joined; and if she dis- 
covered that I had been without her, she would weep 
bitterly and cry, "Ah, mamma, you pray but I don't." 
"When we were alone and she saw my eyes closed — 
she'd whisper, "Are you asleep?" and then cry out, 
"Ah no, you are praying to our dear Jesus;" and 
dropping on her knees before me, she would begin to 
pray too. She was several times whipped by her grand- 
mother, because she said she would never have any 
other husband but our Lord, yet she could never make 
her say otherwise. She was innocent and modest as 
a little angel; very dutiful and endearing, and withal 
very beautiful. Her father doted on her, and to me 
she was very dear, much more for the qualities of her 
mind than those of her beautiful person. I looked 



EARTHLY LOSSES; HE A VENLY GAINS 105 

upon her as my only consolation on earth, for she had 
as much affection for me, as her brother had aversion 
and contempt. She died of an unseasonable bleeding. 

There now remained to me only the son of my sor- 
row. He fell ill to the point of death, but was restored 
at the prayer of Mother Granger, now my only conso- 
lation after God. I no more wept for my child than 
for my father. I could only say, "Thou, Lord, gave 
her to me ; it pleases Thee to take her back again, for 
she was Thine." As for my father, his virtue was so 
generally known, that I must rather be silent, than 
enter upon the subject. His reliance on God, his faith 
and patience were wonderful. Both died in July, 1672. 
From henceforth crosses were not spared me, and 
though I have had abundance of them hitherto, yet 
they were only the shadows of those which I have been 
since obliged to pass through, pursuant to a marriage 
contract, which I had lately entered into with our Lord 
Jesus Christ. In this spiritual marriage I claimed for 
my dowry only crosses, scourges, persecutions, ignomin- 
ies, lowliness, and nothingness of self, which in His 
great goodness, and for wise ends, as I have seen, He 
has been pleased to grant and confer upon me. 

One day, being in great distress on account of the 
redoubling of outward and inward crosses, I went into 
my closet to give vent to my grief. M. Bertot was 
brought into my mind, with this wish, "Oh, that he 
was sensible of what I suffer ! ' ' Though he wrote but 
very seldom, and with great difficulty, yet he wrote me 
a letter dated the same day about the cross, the finest 
and most consolatory he ever wrote me on that sub- 
ject. 



XIII. SEVEN TEARS OF DARKNESS. 



A LADY of rank, whom I sometimes visited, 
took a particular liking to me, because she 
said that she observed in me something extra- 
ordinary and uncommon. I believe it was the inward 
attraction of my soul that appeared on my very coun- 
tenance, for one day a gentleman of fashion said to 
my husband's aunt, "I saw the lady your niece; and 
it is very evident that she lives in the presence of God." 
I was surprised at this, as I little thought such an one 
as he could know what it was to have God thus pres- 
ent. This lady, I say, began to be touched with the 
sense of God. For, wanting once to take me to the 
play, I refused to go (as I never went to plays) ; mak- 
ing use of the pretext of my husband's continual indis- 
positions. She pressed me exceedingly, and said I 
should not be prevented by his sickness from taking 
some amusement, and that I was not of an age to be 
confined with the sick like a nurse. I told her my 
reasons for acting so by my husband. She then 
perceived that it was more from a principle of piety, 
than the indispositions of my husband, that I did not 
go. Insisting to know my sentiment of plays, I told 
her I entirely disapproved of them, and especially for 
a Christian woman. And as she was far more ad- 
vanced in years than I was, what I then said made 
such an impression on her mind, she never went again. 
Being once with her and another lady, who was 
fond of talking and who had read the fathers, they 
spoke much of God. This lady spoke learnedly of Him. 



SEVEN YEARS OF DARKNESS 107 

I said scarcely anything, being inwardly drawn to 
silence, and troubled at such kind of conversation about 
God. My acquaintance came next day to see me, — 
the Lord had so touched her heart, that she could hold 
out no longer. I attributed this touch to something 
the other lady had said, but she said to me, "Your 
silence had something in it which penetrated to the 
'bottom of my soul; and I could not relish what the 
other said." Then we spoke to one another with open 
hearts. 

It was then that God left indelible impressions of 
His grace on her soul, and she continued so athirst for 
Him, that she could scarcely endure to converse on 
any other subject. That she might become wholly His, 
He deprived her of a most affectionate husband, and 
visited her with such severe crosses, and at the same 
time poured His grace so abundantly into her heart, 
that He soon became the sole master thereof. After 
the death of her husband, and the loss of most of her 
fortune, she went to reside four leagues from our house, 
on a small estate, which she had yet left. She obtained 
my husband 's consent to my going to spend a week with 
her, to console her under her losses. God gave her by 
my means all she wanted. She had a great share of 
understanding, but was surprised at my expressing 
things to her so far above my natural capacity. I 
should have been surprised at it myself, had I reflected 
on it. But it was God who gave me the gift for her 
sake, diffusing a flood of grace into her soul, without 
regarding the unworthiness of the channel He was 
pleased to make use of. Since that time her soul has 
been the temple of the Holy Ghost, and our hearts have 
been indissolubly united. 






108 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

My husband and I took a little journey together, 
in which both my resignation and humility were exer- 
cised, yet without difficulty or constraint, so powerful 
was the influence of divine grace. We had all liked to 
have perished in a river. The rest of the company in 
a desperate fright threw themselves out of the coach, 
which sunk in the moving sand. I continued so much 
inwardly occupied, that I did not once think of the 
danger. God delivered me from it without my thought 
of avoiding it. I was quite content to be drowned, 
had He permitted it. It may be said I was rash. I 
believe I was so; yet I rather chose to perish, trust- 
ing in God, than make my escape in a dependence on 
myself. But what say I? We do not perish, but for 
want of trusting in Him. My pleasure is to be indebted 
to Him for everything. This renders me content in my 
miseries, which I would rather endure all my life long, 
in a state of resignation to Him, than put an end to 
them, in a dependence on myself. However, I would 
not advise others to act thus, unless they were in the 
same disposition which I was in at that time. 

As my husband's maladies daily increased, he re- 
solved to go to St. Eeine. He appeared very desirous 
of having none but me with him, and told me one day, 
"If they never spoke to me against you, I should be 
more easy, and you more happy.' ' In this journey I 
committed many faults of self-love and self-seeking, 
and being in a deep interior resignation, experienced 
thereby what I should be without Thy fatherly care, 
Lord. For some time past Thou hadst withdrawn 
from me that sweet interior correspondence which 
before I had only to follow. I was become like a poor 
traveller that had lost his way in the night, and could 



SEVEN YEARS OF DARKNESS 109 

find no way, path or track. But I reserve for another 
place a description of the terrible darkness through 
which I passed. My husband, in his return from St. 
Eeine, passed by St. Edm. Having now no children 
but my first-born son, who was often at the gates of 
death, he wished exceedingly for heirs, and prayed for 
them earnestly. God granted his desire, and gave me 
a second son. As I was several weeks without any one 
daring to speak to me, on account of my great weak- 
ness, it was a time of retreat and of silence, wherein 
I tried to indemnify myself for the loss of time I had 
sustained, to pray to Thee, my God, and to continue 
alone with Thee. I may say that God took a new pos- 
session of me, and left me not. It was a time of con- 
tinual joy without interruption. As I had experienced 
many inward difficulties, weaknesses and withdrawings 
of my Love, it was a new life. It seemed as if I was 
already in the fruition of beatitude. But how dear did 
this happy time cost me, since it was only a preparative 
to a total privation of comfort for several years, with- 
out any support, or hope of return ! It began with the 
death of Mrs. Granger, who had been my only conso- 
lation under God. Before my return from St. Reine I 
heard she was dead. 

When I received this news, I confess it was the 
most afflicting stroke I had ever felt. I thought, had . 
I been with her at her death, I might have spoken to 
her, and received her last instructions; but God has so 
ordered it that I was deprived of her assistance, in 
almost all my losses, in order to render the strokes 
more painful. Some months indeed before her death, 
it was shown to me, that though I could not see her 
but with difficulty, and suffering for it, yet she was 






110 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

still some support to me, and the Lord let me know 
that it would be profitable for me to be deprived of 
her. But at the time she died I did not think so. It 
was in that trying season when my paths were all 
blocked up, she was taken from me, she who might 
have guided me in my lonesome and difficult road, — 
bounded as it were with precipices, and entangled with 
briars and thorns. 

Oh, adorable conduct of my God ! there must be no 
guide for the person whom Thou art leading into the 
regions of darkness and death; no conductor for the 
man whom Thou art determined to destroy, (that is, 
to cause to die totally to himself). After having saved 
me with so much mercy, my Love ; after having led 
me by the hand in rugged paths, it seems Thou wast 
bent on my destruction. May it not be said that Thou 
dost not save but to destroy, nor go to seek the lost 
sheep, but to cause it to be yet more lost; that Thou 
art pleased in building what is demolished, and in 
demolishing what is built. Thus Thou wouldst over- 
turn the temple built by human endeavors, with so 
much care and industry — in order as it were miracu- 
lously to erect a divine structure — a house not built 
with hands, eternal in the heavens. 

My brother now openly showed his hatred for me. 
He married at Orleans, and my husband had the com- 
plaisance to go to his marriage, though he was in a 
poor state of health, the roads bad, and so covered over 
with snow, that We had like to have been overset twelve 
or fifteen times. And yet, far from appearing obliged 
by his politeness, my brother quarrelled with him more 
than ever, and without any reason, too, and I was the 
butt of both their resentments. While I was at Orleans, 



SEVEN YEARS OF DARKNESS 1 1 1 

meeting with one whom at that time I thought highly 
of, I was too forward and free in speaking to him of 
spiritual things, thinking I was doing well, but had a 
remorse for it afterwards ; which I so remembered, that 
I no more fell into the like fault again. How often we 
mistake nature for grace ! One must be dead to self, 
when such forwardness comes from God only. 

On my return, my brother treated me with the ut- 
most contempt. Yet, my mind was so fully drawn 
inward, that although we had much more danger on 
the road than in going, I had no thought about myself, 
but all about my husband; so that seeing the coach 
overturning, I said, "Fear not, it is on my side that it 
falls; it will not hurt you." I believe, had all perished 
I should not have been moved. My peace was so pro- 
found that nothing could shake it. If these times con- 
tinued, we should be too strong. But they now began 
to come but seldom, and were followed with long and 
wearisome privations. Since that time my brother has 
changed for the better, and has turned on the side of 
God, but he has never turned to me. It has been by 
particular permission of God, and the conduct of His 
providence over my soul, that has caused him and other 
religious persons, who have persecuted me, to think 
they were rendering glory to God, and doing acts of 
justice therein. 

After this there fell out a very perplexing affair, 
which caused me great crosses, and seemed designed 
for nothing else. A certain person conceived so much 
malice against my husband, that he was determined to 
ruin him if possible. He found no other way to attempt 
it, but by entering into a private engagement with 
my brother ; by which he obtained a power to demand, 






112 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

in the name of the king's brother, two hundred thou- 
sand livres, which he pretended that my brother and 
I owed him. My brother signed the processes, upon 
an assurance given him that he should not pay any- 
thing. I think his youth engaged him in what he did 
not understand. This affair so chagrined my husband, 
that I have reason to believe it shortened his days. 
He was so angry with me, although I was innocent, 
that he could not speak to me but in a fury. He 
would give me no light into the affair, and I did not 
know in what it consisted. In the height of his rage, 
he said he would not meddle with it, but give me up my 
portion, and let me live as I could, with many other 
things still more grating. On the other side, my brother 
would not move in it, nor suffer anything to be done. 
The day when the trial was to come on, after prayer, 
I felt myself strongly pressed to go to the judges. I 
was wonderfully assisted herein, even so as to discover 
and unravel all the turns and artifices of this affair, 
without knowing how I could have been able to do it. 
The first judge was so surprised to see the affair so 
very different from what he had thought it before, that 
he himself exhorted me to go to the other judges, and 
especially to the intendant, who was just then going 
to court, and was quite misinformed about the matter. 
God enabled me to manifest the truth in so clear a light, 
and gave such power to my words, that the intendant 
thanked me for having so seasonably come to unde- 
ceive, and set him right in the affair. Had I not done 
this, he assured me the cause had been lost. And as 
they saw the falsehood of every point, they would have 
condemned the plaintiff to pay the costs, if he had not 
been so great a prince, who lent his name to the scheme. 



SEVEN YEARS OF DARKNESS 1 13 

To save the honor of the prince, they ordered us to 
pay him fifty crowns. Hereby the two hundred thou- 
sand livres were reduced to only one hundred and fifty. 
My husband was exceedingly pleased at what I had 
done, but my brother appeared as outrageous against 
me, as if I had caused him some very great loss. 

About this time I fell into a state of total privation 
which lasted nearly seven years. I seemed to myself 
cast down, as it were, from a throne of enjoyment, 
like Nebuchadnezzar, to live among beasts; a deplor- 
able state, yet of the greatest advantage to me, by the 
use which divine wisdom made of it. This state of 
emptiness, darkness and impotency, went far beyond 
any trials I had ever yet met with. I have since 
experienced, that the prayer of the heart, when it ap- 
pears most dry and barren, nevertheless is not ineffect- 
ual nor offered in vain. For God gives what is best 
for us, though not what we most relish or wish for. 
Were people but convinced of this truth, they would 
be far from complaining all their life long. By causing 
us death He would procure us life, for all our happi- 
ness, spiritual, temporal and eternal, consists in re- 
signing ourselves to God, leaving it to Him to do in 
us and with us as He pleases, and with so much the 
more submission, as things please us less. By this 
pure dependence on His Spirit, everything is given us 
admirably. Our very weaknesses, in His hand, prove 
a source of humiliation. If the soul were faithful to 
leave itself in the hand of God, sustaining all His oper- 
ations, whether gratifying or mortifying, suffering 
itself to be conducted, from moment to moment, by His 
hand, and annihilated by the strokes of His Providence, 
without complaining, or desiring anything but what it 



114 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

has, it would soon arrive at the experience of the eter- 
nal truth, though it might not at onee know the ways 
and methods by which God conducted it thereto. 

But the misfortune is, that people want to direct 
God, instead of resigning themselves to be directed by 
Him. They want to show Him a way, instead of pas- 
sively following that wherein He leads them. Hence 
many souls, called to enjoy God Himself, and not 
barely His gifts, spend all their lives in running after 
little consolations, and feeding on them; resting there 
only, and making all their happiness to consist therein. 

For you, my dear children, if my chains and my im- 
prisonment in any way afflict you, I pray that they may 
serve to engage you to seek nothing but God for Him- 
self alone, and never to desire to possess Him but by the 
death of your whole selves ; never to seek to be some- 
thing in the ways of the Spirit, but choose ye to enter 
into the most profound nothingness. 

I had an internal strife, which continually racked 
me; — two powers which appeared equally strong, 
seemed equally to struggle for the mastery within me. 
On the one hand, a desire of pleasing Thee, my God, 
a fear of offending, and a continual tendency of all my 
powers to Thee ; — on the other side, the view of all my 
inward corruptions, the depravity of my heart, and the 
continual stirring and rising of self. Oh, what torrents 
of tears, what desolations have these cost me? "Is it 
possible," I cried, "that I have received so many 
graces and favors from God — only to lose them ; — that 
I have loved Him with so much ardor, but to be eter- 
nally deprived of Him; — that His benefits have only 
produced ingratitude, — His fidelity been repaid with 
infidelity; — that my heart has been emptied of all crea- 



SEVEN YEARS OF DARKNESS 115 

tures, and created objects, and filled with His blessed 
presence and love, — in order now to be wholly void of 
divine power, and only filled with wanderings and cre- 
ated objects!" 

I could now no longer pray as formerly. Heaven 
seemed shut to me, and I thought justly, too. I could 
get no consolation, or make any complaint thereupon ; 
nor had I any creature on earth to apply to, or to 
whom I might impart a knowledge of my condition. 
I found myself banished from all beings, without find- 
ing a support or refuge in anything. I could no more 
practice any virtue with facility ; such as had formerly 
been so familiar seemed now to have left me. "Alas!" 
said I, "is it possible that this heart, formerly all on 
fire, should now become like ice?" I often thought 
all creatures combined against me. Laden with a 
weight of past sins, and a multitude of new ones, I 
could not think God would ever pardon me, but looked 
on myself as a victim designed for hell. I would have 
been glad to do penances, to make use of prayers, 
pilgrimages and vows. But still, whatever I tried for 
a remedy seemed only to increase the malady. I may 
say that tears were my drink, and sorrow my food. I 
felt in myself such a pain as I never could bring any to 
comprehend, but such as have experienced it. I had 
within myself an executioner who tortured me without 
respite. Even when I went to Church, I was not easy 
there. To sermons I could give no attention; they 
were now of no service or refreshment to me. I 
scarcely conceived or understood anything in them, or 
about them. 



XIV. A NEW CRISIS. 



AS my husband drew near his end, his dis- 
tempers had no intermission. No sooner was 
he recovered from one but he fell into an- 
other. He bore great pains with much patience, offer- 
ing them to God, and making a good use of them. Yet 
his anger toward me increased, because reports and 
stories of me were multiplied to him, and those about 
him did nothing but vex him. He was the more sus- 
ceptible of such impressions, as his pains gave him a 
stronger bent to vexation. At this time the maid, who 
had used to torment me, sometimes took pity on me. 
She came to see me as soon as I was gone into my 
closet, and said, "Come to my master, that your moth- 
er-in-law may not speak any more to him against you." 
I pretended to be ignorant of it all, but he could not 
conceal his displeasure, nor even suffer me near him. 
My mother-in-law at the same time kept no bounds. 
All that came to the house were witnesses of the con- 
tinual scoldings, which I was forced to bear, and which 
I bore with much patience, notwithstanding my being 
in the condition I have mentioned. 

My husband having, sometime before his death, 
finished the building of the chapel in the country, 
where we spent a part of the summer, I had the conve- 
nience of hearing prayers every day, and of the com- 
munion ; but not daring to do it openly every day, the 
priest privately admitted me to the communion. They 
solemnized the dedication of this little chapel, and 
though I had already begun to enter into the condi- 



A NEW CRISIS 117 

tion I have described, yet when they began to bless it, 
I felt myself all on a sudden inwardly seized, which 
continued more than five hours, all the time of the 
ceremony, when our Lord made a new consecration of 
me to Himself. I then seemed to myself a temple con- 
secrated to Him, both for time and for eternity; and 
said within myself (speaking both of the one and the 
other), "May this temple never be profaned; — may the 
praises of God be sung therein forever !" It seemed 
to me at that time as if my prayer was granted. But 
soon all this was taken from me, and not so much as 
any remembrance thereof left to console me. 

When I was at this country house, which was only 
a little place of retreat before the chapel was built, I 
retired for prayer to woods and caverns. How many 
times, here, has God preserved me from dangerous and 
venomous beasts! Sometimes, unawares, I kneeled 
upon serpents, which were there in great plenty, and 
they fled away without doing me any harm. Once I 
happened to be alone in a little wood wherein was a 
mad bull; but, without offering me the least hurt, he 
betook himself to flight. If I could recount all the 
providences of God in my favor, it would appear won- 
derful. They were indeed so frequent and continual, 
that I could not but be astonished at them. God ever- 
lastingly gives to such as have nothing to repay Him. 
If there appears in the creature any fidelity or patience, 
it is He alone who gives it. If He ceases for an instant 
to support, — if He seems to leave me to myself, I cease 
to be strong, and find myself weaker than any other 
creature. If my miseries show what I am, His favors 
show what He is, and the extreme necessity I am under 
of ever depending on Him. 



118 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

At last, after passing twelve years and four months 
in the crosses of marriage, as great as possible, except 
poverty which I never knew, though I had much de- 
sired it, God drew me out of that state to give me still 
stronger crosses to bear, and of such a nature as I had 
never met with before. Amidst the great troubles im- 
posed upon me, when they said I was in a mortal sin, 
I had nobody in the world to speak to. I could have 
wished to have had somebody for a witness of my con- 
duct ; but I had not any. I had no support, no confes- 
sor, no director, no friend, no counsellor. I had lost 
all. And after God had taken from me one after 
another, He withdrew also Himself. 

My husband's illness grew every day more obstin- 
ate. He apprehended the approach of death, and even 
wished for it, so oppressive was the languishing life he 
dragged on. The doctor advised him to go into the 
country. There for a few days at first he seemed to be 
better, when he was suddenly taken with a complica- 
tion of diseases. His patience increased with his pain. 
I saw plainly he could not live long. It was a great 
trouble to me, that my mother-in-law kept me from him 
as much as she could, and infused into his mind such a 
displeasure against me, that I was afraid lest he should 
die in it. I took a little interval of time when she hap- 
pened not to be with him, and drawing near his bed, 
I kneeled down and said to him, that if I had ever 
done anything that displeased him I begged his pardon, 
assuring him it had not been voluntary. He appeared 
very much affected, and as he had just come out of a 
sound sleep, he said to me, " It is I who beg your par- 
don. I did not deserve you." After that time he was 
not only pleased to see me, but gave me advice what I 



A NEW CRISIS 119 

should do after his death ; not to depend on the people 
on whom I now depended. He was for eight days 
very resigned and patient, though on account of the 
prevailing gangrene, he was cut and opened with a 
lance. I sent to Paris for the most skilful surgeon, but 
when he arrived my husband was dead. 

No mortal could die in a more Christian disposi- 
tion, or with more courage than he did, after having 
received the sacrament in a manner truly edifying. I 
was not present when he expired, for out of tenderness 
he had made me retire. He was above twenty hours 
unconscious and in the agonies of death. Thou didst 
order, my God, that he should die on Magdalene's 
eve, to show me that I was to be wholly Thine. I re- 
newed every year, on Magdalene's day, the marriage 
contract which I made to Thee, my Lord ; and I found 
myself at that time free to renew it, and that most 
solemnly. It was in the morning on the 21st of July, 
1676, that he died. Next day I entered into my closet, 
in which was the image of my dear and divine spouse, 
the Lord Jesus Christ. I renewed my marriage-con- 
tract, and added thereto a vow of chastity, with a 
promise to make it perpetual, if M. Bertot, my director, 
would permit me to do it. After that I was filled with 
great interior joy, which was new to me, as for a long 
time past I had been plunged in the deepest bitterness. 

As soon as I heard that my husband had just ex- 
pired, "Oh, my God," I cried, "Thou hast broken my 
bonds, and I will offer Thee a sacrifice of praise." After 
that I remained in a deep silence, both exterior and 
interior, quite dry and without any support. I could 
neither weep nor speak. My mother-in-law said very 
fine things, and was very much commended for it by 



120 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

everyone. They were offended at my silence, which 
they attributed to want of resignation. But I could 
not say one single word, let me strive as I would. 

I was indeed very much exhausted; for although I 
was but recently delivered of my daughter, yet I 
attended and sat up with my husband four and twenty 
nights before his death. I was more than a year after 
in recovering the fatigue, joined to my great weakness 
and pain both of body and of mind. The great depres- 
sion, or dryness and stupidity which I was in, was such 
that I could not say a word about God. It bore me 
down in such a manner, that I could hardly speak. I 
saw well that my crosses would not fail, since my 
mother-in-law had survived my husband. Also I was 
still tied, in having two children given me in so short 
a time before my husband's death, which has evidently 
appeared the effect of divine wisdom; for had I only 
my eldest son, I would have put him in a college ; and 
have gone myself into the convent of the Benedictines, 
and so frustrated all the designs of God upon me. 

There was one matter of great importance. A 
number of persons, who had been contending at law 
for several years, applied to my husband to settle their 
affairs. There were twenty actions one upon another, 
and in all twenty-two persons concerned, who could not 
get any end put to their differences, by reason of new 
incidents continually falling out. My husband charged 
himself with getting lawyers to examine their papers, 
but died before he could make any procedure therein. 
After his death I sent for them to give them their 
papers ; but they would not receive them, begging of 
me that I would accommodate them, and prevent their 
ruin. It appeared to me as ridiculous, as impossible, 






A NEW CRISIS 121 

to undertake an affair of so great consequence, and 
which would require so long a discussion. Neverthe- 
less, relying on the strength and wisdom of God, I con- 
sented. I shut myself up about thirty days in my 
closet, for all these affairs, without ever going out, but 
to mass and to my meals. The arbitration being at 
length prepared, they all signed it without seeing it. 
They were all so well satisfied therewith, that they 
could not forbear publishing it everywhere. It was 
God alone who did those things; for after they were 
settled I knew nothing about them ; and if I now hear 
any talk of such things, to me it sounds like Arabic. 

Being now a widow, my crosses, which one would 
have thought should have abated, only increased. That 
turbulent domestic I have so often mentioned, instead 
of growing milder, now that she depended on me, be- 
came more furious than ever. In our house she had 
amassed a good fortune, and I settled on her, besides, 
an annuity for the remainder of her life, for the ser- 
vices she had done my husband. She swelled with van- 
ity and haughtiness. Having been used to sit up so 
much with an invalid, she had taken to drink wine, 
to keep up her spirits. This had now passed into a 
habit. As she grew aged and weak, a very little 
affected her. I tried to hide this fault ; but it grew so 
that it could not be concealed. I spoke of it to her 
confessor, in order that he might try, softly and art- 
fully to reclaim her from it; but instead of profiting 
by her director's advice, she was outrageous against 
me. My mother-in-law, who could hardly bear the fault 
of intemperance, and had often spoken to me about it, 
now joined in reproaching me and vindicating her. 
This strange creature, when any company came, would 






122 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

cry out with all her might that I had dishonored her, 
thrown her into despair, and would be the cause of her 
damnation, as I was taking the ready course to my 
own. Yet at this time God gave me an unbounded 
patience. I answered only with mildness and charity 
all her passionate invectives, giving her besides every 
possible mark of my affection. If any other maid came 
to wait on me, she would drive her back in a rage, cry- 
ing out that I hated her on account of the affection 
with which she had served my husband. "When she 
had not a mind to come, I was obliged to serve myself ; 
and when she did come, it was to chide me and make 
a noise. When I was very unwell, as was often the 
case, this girl would appear to be in despair. From 
hence I thought it was from Thee, Lord, that all 
this came upon me; for without Thy permission, she 
was scarcely capable of such unaccountable conduct. 
She seemed not sensible of any faults, but always to 
think herself in the right. All those whom Thou hast 
made use of to cause me to suffer, thought they were 
rendering service to Thee in so doing. 

The Lord took from me all the sensibility which I 
had for the creatures, or things created, even in an 
instant, as one takes off a robe, in such sort that after 
that time I had none for any whatsoever. Though He 
had done me that favor, for which I can never be 
sufficiently grateful, I was, however, neither more con- 
tented nor less confused by it. My God seemed to be 
so estranged and displeased with me, that there re- 
mained nothing but the grief of having lost His blessed 
presence through my fault. 

I became more impotent for every kind of exterior 
works, as I could not go to see the poor, nor stay at 






A NEW CRISIS 123 



Church, nor practice prayer, and as I became colder 
towards God, in proportion as I was more sensible of 
my wrong steps, all this destroyed me the more both 
in my own eyes and in those of others. There were 
in the meantime, some very considerable gentlemen 
who made proposals for me, and even such persons as 
according to the rules of fashion ought not to think of 
me. They presented themselves during the very depth 
of my outward and inward desolation. At first it 
appeared to me a means of drawing me out of the dis- 
tress I was in. But it seemed to me then, notwith- 
standing my pains of body and mind, that if a king 
had presented himself to me, I would have refused 
him with pleasure to show Thee, my God, that with 
all my miseries I was resolved to be Thine alone, and 
that if Thou wouldst not accept of me, I should at least 
have the consolation of having been faithful to Thee, to 
the utmost of my power. For as to my inward state, 
I never mentioned it to anybody. I never spoke 
thereof, nor of the suitors, though my mother-in-law 
would say if I did not marry, it was because none 
would have me. It was sufficient for me that Thou, 
my God, knewest that I sacrificed them to Thee (with- 
out saying a word to anybody), especially one whose 
high birth and amiable exterior qualities might have 
tempted both my vanity and inclination. 

I was for five or six weeks at the last extremity. I 
could not take any nourishment. A spoonful of broth 
made me faint. My voice was so gone, that when they 
put their ears close to my mouth, they could scarcely 
distinguish my words. I could not see any hope of 
salvation, yet was not unwilling to die, as I bore a 
strong impression that the longer I lived the more I 



124 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

would sin. Of the two, I thought I would rather 
choose hell than sin. All the good, which God made 
me do, now seemed to me evil, or full of faults. All 
my prayers, penances, alms and charities, seemed to 
rise up against me, and heighten my condemnation. 
I thought there appeared on the side of God, on my 
own, and from all creatures, one general condemnation, 
my conscience was a witness against me, which I could 
not appease ; yet what may appear strange, the sins of 
niy youth did not then give me any pain at all. They 
did not rise up in judgment against me, but there ap- 
peared one universal testimony against all the good I 
had done, and all the sentiments of evil I had enter- 
tained. If I went to confessors, I could tell them noth- 
ing of my condition; and if I could have told them, 
they would not have understood me. They would have 
regarded as eminent virtues, what, my God, Thy 
eyes all pure and chaste rejected as infidelity. It was 
then that I felt the truth of what Thou hast said, that 
Thou judgest our righteousness. Oh, how pure art 
Thou! Who can comprehend it? It was then that I 
turned my eyes on every side, to see what way succor 
might come to me; but my succor could come no way 
but from Him who made heaven and earth. As I saw 
there was no safety for me, or spiritual health in my- 
self, I entered into a secret complacency in seeing no 
good in myself whereon to rest, or presume for salva- 
tion. The nearer my destruction appeared, the more 
I found in God Himself, wherewith to augment my 
trust and confidence, notwithstanding He seemed so 
justly irritated against me. 






XV. ALONE IN THE DESERT. 



THE first religious person that God made use 
of to draw me to Himself, to whom (accord- 
ing to his desire) I had written from time 
to time, wrote to me in the depth of my distress, de- 
siring me to write to him no more, signifying his 
disapprobation of what came from me, and that I dis- 
pleased God greatly. A father, a Jesuit, who had es- 
teemed me much, wrote to me in like manner. I thanked 
them for their charity, and commended myself to their 
prayers. It was then so indifferent to me to be decried 
of everybody, even of the greatest saints, that it added 
but little to my pain. The pain of displeasing God, 
and the strong propensity I felt in myself to all sorts 
of faults, caused me most lively and sensible pain. 

I had been accustomed from the beginning to dry- 
ness and to privation. I even preferred it to the state 
of abounding, because I knew that I must seek God 
above all. I had even, at the first beginnings, an in- 
stinct of my inmost soul to pass over every manner of 
thing whatsoever, and to leave the gifts to run after the 
Giver. 

I was obliged to go about some business to a town 
where some near relations of my mother-in-law lived. 
How did I find things changed here! When I was 
there before, they entertained me in a most elegant and 
obliging manner, regaling me from house to house with 
emulation. But now they treated me with the utmost 
contempt, saying they did it to revenge what I made 
their relation suffer. As I saw the thing went so far, 



126 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

and that notwithstanding all my care and endeavors to 
please her, I had not been able to succeed, I resolved 
to come to an explanation with her. I told her that 
there was a current report that I treated her ill, though 
I made it a study to give her every mark of my es- 
teem. If the report were true, I desired her to allow 
me to remove from her; for that I would not choose 
to stay to give her pain, but only with a quite con- 
trary view. She answered very coldly I might do 
what I would; for she had not spoken about it, but 
was resolved to live apart from me. This was fairly 
giving me my discharge, and I thought of taking my 
measures privately to retire. As I had not, since my 
widowhood, made any visits but such as were of pure 
necessity, or charity, there were found too many dis- 
contented spirits, who made a party with her against 
me; while the Lord required of me an inviolable se- 
crecy of all my pains, both exterior and interior. There 
is nothing which makes nature die so much, as to find 
neither support nor consolation. In short I saw myself 
obliged to go out, in the middle of winter, with my 
children and my daughter's nurse. At that time there 
was no house empty in the town, hence the Benedic- 
tines offered me an apartment in theirs. 

I was now in a great strait ; on one side fearing lest 
I was shunning the cross, on the other side thinking it 
unreasonable to impose my stay on one to whom it 
was only painful. Besides what I have related of her 
behavior, which still continued, when I went into the 
country to take a little repose, she complained that I 
left her alone. If I desired her to come thither she 
would not. If I said I durst not ask her to come, 
for fear of incommoding her, by changing her bed, 



ALONE IN THE DESERT 127 

she replied it was only an excuse, because I would 
not have her go; and that I only went to be away 
from her. When I heard that she was displeased at 
my being in the country, I returned to the town. Then 
she could not bear to speak to me, or to see me. I 
accosted her without appearing to notice how she re- 
ceived it, but instead of making me any answer, she 
turned her head another way. I often sent her my 
coach, desiring her to come and spend a day in the 
country. She sent it back empty, without any answer. 
If I passed some days there without sending it, she 
complained aloud. In short, all I did to please her 
soured her, God so permitting it, for she had in the 
main a good heart, but was troubled with an uneasy 
temper. 

Being with her on Christmas day, I said to her with 
much affection : ' c My mother, on this day was the King 
of peace born, to bring it to us ; I beg peace of you in 
His name." I think that touched her, though she 
would not let it appear. 

One day during my husband's life-time, laden with 
sorrow, and not knowing what to do, I wished to speak 
to a person of distinction and merit, who came often 
into the country, and passed for one deeply interior. 
I wrote to request an opportunity with him, for that 
I wanted his instruction and advice. But soon after I 
felt remorse for it, and this voice spoke in my heart, 
"What — dost thou seek for ease, and to shake off My 
yoke?" Hereupon I instantly sent a note again to 
desire him to excuse me, adding that what I had writ- 
ten was only from self-love, and not necessity; that 
as he knew what it was to be faithful to God, I hoped 
he would not disapprove my acting with this Chris- 



128 UFB OF MADAM GUY ON 

tian simplicity. Yet he resented it, which surprised 
me much, as I had conceived a high idea of his virtue. 
Virtues he has, but such as are full of the life and ac- 
tivities of nature, and unacquainted with the paths 
of mortification and death. Thou, my God, hast 
been my Conductor even in these paths, as with admi- 
ration I have discovered since they are past. Blessed 
be Thy name forever. I am obliged to bear this testi- 
mony to Thy goodness. 

Before I continue my narration, I must add one 
remark, which the Lord gave me to make upon the 
way by which He, in His goodness, was pleased to con- 
duct me; which is, that this obscure path is the surest 
to mortify the soul, as it leaves it not any prop to lean 
upon for support. Though it has no application to 
any particular state of Jesus Christ, yet, at its coming 
out it finds itself clothed with all His dispositions and 
divine states, having truly put on Christ. The impure 
and selfish soul, is hereby purified, as gold in the fur- 
nace. Full of its own judgment, and its own will 
before, but now obeys like a child, and finds no other 
will in itself. Before, it would have contested for a 
trifle; now it yields at once, not with reluctance and 
pain, by way of practicing virtue, but as it were natur- 
ally. Its own vices are vanished. This creature so 
vain before now loves nothing but poverty, littleness 
and humiliation. Before, it preferred itself above 
everybody, now everybody above itself, having a 
boundless charity for its neighbor, to bear with his 
faults and weaknesses, in order to win him by love, 
which before it could not do but with very great con- 
straint. The rage of the wolf is changed to the meek- 
ness of the lamb. 



ALONE IN THE DESERT 129 

During all the time of my experiencing my miseries 
and my deep trials, I went after no fine sights or 
recreations. When others went, I stayed at home. I 
wanted to see and know nothing but Jesus Christ. My 
closet was my only diversion. Even when the queen 
was near me, whom I had never seen, and whom I had 
desire enough to see, I had only to open my eyes, and 
look out to see her, yet did not do it. I had been 
fond of hearing others sing; and yet I was once four 
days with one who passed for the finest voice in the 
world, without ever desiring her to sing; which sur- 
prised her, because she was not ignorant that, knowing 
her name, I must know the charming excellence of her 
voice. However, I committed some infidelities, in 
inquiring what others said of me by way of blame. 
I met with one who told me everything. And though I 
shewed nothing of it, it served only to mortify me, as I 
saw I was yet too much alive to self, and that self-love 
and nature had put me upon this inquiry. 

Laden with miseries of all sorts, weighed down with 
oppressions, and crushed under continual crosses, I 
thought of nothing else but ending my days thus. 
There remained in me not the least hope of ever 
emerging out of so distressing a state. But, notwith- 
standing, I thought I had lost grace forever, and the 
salvation which it merits for us, I longed at least to do 
what I could for God, though I feared I should never 
love Him; and seeing the happy state from whence I 
had fallen, I wished in gratitude to serve Him, though 
I looked on myself as a victim doomed to destruction. 
Sometimes the view of that happy period caused secret 

desires to spring up in my heart, of recovering it 
asrnin ; but T F*s instantly rented «^^ thrown hnok 



130 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

into the depth of the abyss, from whence I could 
scarcely utter a sigh ; I judged myself to be in a state 
which was due to unfaithful souls. I seemed, my 
God, as if I was forever cast off from Thy regard, and 
from that of all creatures. By degrees my state ceased 
to be painful. I became even insensible to it, and my 
insensibility seemed like the final hardening of my 
reprobation. My coldness appeared to be a mortal 
coldness. And it was truly so, my God, since I thus 
died to self, in order to live wholly in Thee, and in Thy 
precious love, as I am going to relate. 

To resume then my history, a servant of mine wanted 
to become a Barnabite. I wrote about it to Father 
de la Mothe; he answered me, that I must address 
Father La Combe, who was then the superior of the 
Barnabites of Tonon. That obliged me to write 
to him. I had always preserved secret respect and 
esteem for him, as one under grace. I was glad of 
this opportunity of recommending myself to his pray- 
ers. I wrote to him about my fall from the grace of 
God, and that I had requited His favors with the black- 
est ingratitude; that I was miserable, and a subject 
worthy of compassion; and that, far from having 
advanced towards God, I was become entirely alienated 
from Him. He answered me in such a manner, as if he 
had known, by a supernatural light, notwithstanding 
the frightful description I have given of myself that my 
condition was of grace. But I could not then believe it. 

In the midst of my miseries, Geneva came into my 
mind, in a singular manner, which caused me many 
fears. "What," said I, 4 'to complete my reprobation, 
shall I go to such an excess of impiety, as to quit the 
faith through apostasy? (The inhabitants of Geneva 



ALONE IN THE DESERT 131 

being generally Protestant Calvinists.) Am I then 
about quitting that Church, for which I would give a 
thousand lives? Or, shall I ever depart from that 
faith which I would even wish to seal with my blood V 
I had such a distrust of myself, that I durst hope for 
nothing, but had a thousand reasons for fear, after the 
experience I had of my weakness. Nevertheless the 
letter, which I had received from Father La Combe, in 
which he wrote to me an account of his present disposi- 
tion, somewhat similar to mine, had such an effect, as 
to restore peace and calmness to my mind. I felt 
myself inwardly united to him, as to a person of great 
fidelity to the grace of God. Afterwards a woman 
appeared to me in a dream to be from heaven, to tell 
me that God demanded me at Geneva. 

About eight or ten days before Magdalene's day, 
1680, it came into my mind to write to Father La 
Combe, and to request him, if he received my letter 
before that day, to pray particularly for me. And it 
was so ordered, contrary even to my expectations, that 
he received my letter on St. Magdalene's eve, and when 
praying for me the next day, it w r as said to him, thrice 
over, with much power, "Ye shall both dwell in one 
and the same place.' ' He was very much surprised, as 
he never had received interior words before. I believe, 
my God, that that has been much more verified, both 
in our inward sense and experience, and in the same 
crucifying events which have befallen us, pretty much 
alike ; and in Thyself, who art our dwelling, than in any 
temporal abode. 

On that happy Magdalene's day my soul was per- 
fectly delivered from all its pains. It had already begun 
since the receipt of the first letter from Father La 



132 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

Combe, to recover a new life. It was then indeed only 
like that of a dead person raised, though not yet un- 
bound from his grave-clothes. But on this day I was, 
as it were, in perfect life, and set wholly at liberty. 
I then found myself as much raised above nature, as 
before I had been depressed under its burden. I was 
inexpressibly overjoyed to find Him, whom I thought I 
had lost forever, returned to me again with unspeak- 
able magnificence and purity. It was then, my God, 
that I found again in Thee with new advantages, in an 
ineffable manner, all I had been deprived of; and the 
peace I now possessed was all holy, heavenly and inex- 
pressible; all I had enjoyed before was only a peace, 
a gift of God, but now I received and possessed the 
God of peace. Yet the remembrance of my past mis- 
eries still brought a fear upon me, lest nature should 
find means to take to itself any part therein. As soon 
as it wanted to see or taste anything, the Spirit ever 
watchful crossed and repelled it. I was far from ele- 
vating myself then, or attributing to myself anything 
of this new state, for my experience made me sensible 
of what I was. 

I hoped I should enjoy this happy state for some 
time, but little did I think my happiness so great and 
immutable as it was. If one may judge of a good by 
the trouble which precedes it, I leave mine to be 
judged of by the sorrows I had undergone before my 
attaining it. The Apostle Paul tells us, that "the suf- 
ferings of this life are not to be compared with the 
glory that is prepared for us." How true is that even 
of this life? One day of this happiness was worth 
more than years of suffering. It was, indeed, at that 
time well worth all I had undergone, though it was 



ALONE IN THE DESERT 133 

then only dawning. An alacrity for doing good was 
restored to me, greater than ever. It seemed all 
quiet, free and natural to me. At the beginning, this 
liberty was less extensive; but as I advanced it grew 
still greater. I felt a kind of beatitude every day in- 
creasing in me. I did all sorts of good, without selfish- 
ness or premeditation. Whenever a self-reflective 
thought was presented to my mind, it was instantly re- 
jected, and as it were a curtain in the soul drawn be- 
fore me. My imagination was kept so fixed, that I 
had now very little trouble on that head. I wondered 
at the clearness of my mind and the purity of my 
whole heart. 

I received a letter from Father La Combe, wherein 
he wrote that God had discovered to him that He had 
great designs in regard to me. "Let them be," then 
said I to myself, "either of justice or mercy, all is 
equal to me. ' ' I still had Geneva deeply at heart ; but 
said nothing of it to anybody, waiting for God to make 
known to me His all-powerful will, and fearing lest 
any stratagem of the devil should be concealed therein, 
that might tend to draw me out of my proper place, or 
steal me out of my condition. The more I saw my 
own misery, incapacity and nothingness, the plainer it 
appeared that they rendered me fitter for the designs 
of God, whatever they might be. "Oh, my Lord," said 
I, "take the weak and the wretched to do Thy works, 
that Thou mayest have all the glory of them, and that 
man may attribute nothing of them to himself. If 
Thou shouldst take a person of eminence and great tal- 
ents, one might attribute to him something thereof; but 
if Thou takest me, it will be manifest that Thou alone 
art the Author of whatever good shall be done." I 



134 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

continued quiet in my spirit, leaving the whole affair 
to God, being satisfied if He should require anything 
of me, that He would furnish me with the means of 
performing it. I held myself in readiness with a full 
resolution to execute His orders, whenever He should 
make them known, though it were to the laying down 
of my life. I was released from all crosses. I resumed 
my care of the sick, and dressing of wounds, and God 
gave me to cure the most desperate. When surgeons 
could do no more, or were going to cut off limbs, it 
was then that God made me cure them. 

Oh, the joy that accompanied me everywhere, find- 
ing still Him who had united me to Himself, in His own 
immensity and boundless vastitude! Oh, how truly 
did I experience what He said in the Gospel, by the 
four Evangelists, and by one of them twice over, "Who- 
soever will lose his life for My sake shall find it; and 
whosoever will save his life shall lose it." 

When I had lost all created supports, and even 
divine ones, I then found myself happily compelled to 
fall into the pure divine, and to fall into it through all 
those very things which seemed to remove me further 
from it. In losing all the gifts, with all their supports, 
I found the Giver. In losing the sense and perception 
of Thee in myself — I found Thee, my God, to lose 
Thee no more in Thyself, in Thy own immutability. Oh, 
poor creatures, who pass all your time in feeding upon 
the gifts of God, and think therein to be the most 
favored and happy, how I pity you if you stop here, 
short of the true rest, and cease to go forward to God 
Himself, through the loss of those cherished gifts 
which you now delight in. How many pass all their 
lives in this way, and think highly of themselves there- 



ALONE IN THE DESERT 135 

in! There are others who being called of God to die 
to themselves, yet pass all their time in a dying life, 
and in inward agonies, without ever entering into God, 
through death and a total loss of self, because they are 
always willing to retain something under plausible 
pretexts, and so never lose themselves to the whole 
extent of the designs of God. Wherefore, they never 
enjoy God in all His fulness; which is a loss that can- 
not be perfectly known in this life. 

Oh, my Lord, what happiness did I not largely taste 
in my solitude, and with my little family, where noth- 
ing interrupted my tranquillity! As I was in the 
country, and the slender age of my children did not 
require my application too much, they being in good 
hands, I retired a great part of the day into a wood, 
where I passed as many days of happiness as I had 
had months of sorrow. Thou, my God, dealt by me 
as by Thy servant Job, rendering me double for all 
Thou hadst taken from me, and delivering me from all 
my crosses. Thou gavest me a marvelous facility to 
satisfy everyone. What was surprising now, was that 
my mother-in-law, who had ever been complaining of 
me, without my doing anything more than usual to 
please her, declared now that none could be better 
satisfied with me than she was. Such as before had 
cried me down the most, now testified their sorrow for 
it, and became full of my praises. 



XVI. IN LABORS MORE ABUNDANT. 



I WAS obliged to go to Paris about some busi- 
ness. Having entered into a Church, that was 
very dark, I went up to the first confessor I 
found, whom I did not know, nor have ever seen 
since. I made a simple and short confession; but 
to the confessor himself I said not a word. He sur- 
prised me much in saying, "I know not who you are, 
whether maid, wife or widow; but I feel a strong in- 
ward motion to exhort you to do what the Lord has 
made known to you that He requires of you. I have 
nothing else to say." I answered him, "Father, I am 
a widow who has little children. What else could 
God require of me, but to take due care of them in 
their education?" He replied, "I know nothing about 
this. You know if God manifests to you that He re- 
quires something of you ; there is nothing in the world 
which ought to hinder you from doing His will. One 
may have to leave one's children to do that." This 
surprised me much. However, I told him nothing of 
what I felt for Geneva. I disposed myself submissively 
to quit everything, if the Lord required it of me. 

On my return from Paris, I left myself in the hands 
of God, resolved not to take any step, either to make 
the thing succeed or to hinder it, either to advance or 
retard it, but singly to move as He should be pleased 
to direct me. I had mysterious dreams, which por- 
tended nothing but crosses, persecutions and afflictions. 
My heart submitted to whatever it should please God 
to ordain. 



IN LABORS MORE ABUNDANT 137 

I received letters from sundry religious persons, 
some of whom lived far from me, and from one another, 
relating to my going forth in the service of God, and 
some of them to Geneva in particular, in such a man- 
ner as surprised me. One of them intimated that 1 
must there bear the cross and be persecuted; and 
another of them that I should be eyes to the blind, feet 
to the lame, and arms to the maimed. 

At the same time with these letters, I received one 
from Father La Combe, who wrote to me that the Lord 
had given him a certainty, as He had given to several 
of His good and faithful servants and hand-maids, that 
He wanted me at Geneva. The writers of these two 
letters lived above a hundred and fifty leagues from 
each other; and yet both wrote the same thing. I 
could not but be somewhat surprised to receive at the 
same time two letters so exactly alike, from two per- 
sons living so far distant from each other. 

As soon as I became fully convinced of its being the 
will of the Lord, and saw nothing on earth capable of 
detaining me, my senses had some pain about leaving 
my children. And upon reflecting thereon a doubt 
seized my mind. my Lord! Had I rested on my- 
self, or on the creatures, I would have revolted; and 
11 leaned on a broken reed, which would have pierced 
my hand." But relying on Thee alone, what needed I 
to fear? I resolved then to go, regardless of the cen- 
sures of such as understand not what it is to be a ser- 
vant of the Lord, and to receive and obey His orders. 
I firmly believed that He, by His providence, would 
furnish the means necessary for the education of my 
children. I put everything by degrees in order, the 
Lord alone being my Guide. 



138 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

Whilst Providence, on the one hand, appointed my 
forsaking all things, it seemed on the other to make my 
chains the stronger, and my separation the more blam- 
able ; for none could receive stronger marks of affection 
from an own mother than those which I received at 
this time from my mother-in-law ; even the least sick- 
ness which befell me made her very uneasy. She said 
she had veneration for my virtue. I believe what 
contributed not a little to this change was, that she had 
heard that three persons had offered suit to me, and 
that I had refused them, although their fortune and 
quality were quite superior to mine. She remembered 
how she had upbraided me on this head, and I an- 
swered her not a word, whereby she might understand 
that it depended on myself to marry to advantage. 
She began to fear lest such rigorous treatment, as hers 
had been towards me, might excite me to deliver my- 
self by such means, with honor, from her tyranny, and 
was sensible what damage that might be to my chil- 
dren. So she was now very tender to me on every 
occasion. 

I fell extremely ill. I thought that God had accept- 
ed of my willingness to sacrifice all to Him, and re- 
quired that of my life. During this illness, my mother- 
in-law went not from my bedside; her many tears 
proved the sincerity of her affection. I was very much 
affected at it, and thought I loved her as my true 
mother. How, then, should I leave her now, being so 
far advanced in age ? The maid, who till then had been 
my plague, took an inconceivable friendship for me. 
She praised me everywhere, extolling my virtue to the 
highest; and served me with extraordinary respect. 



IN LABORS MORE ABUNDANT 139 

She begged pardon for all that she had made me suffer, 
and died of grief after my departure. 

There was a nun in a monastery I often went to, 
who was entered into a state of purification, which 
everyone in the house looked on as distraction; and 
therefore they locked her up, which had like to have 
destroyed her. All that went to see her called it 
phrenzy or melancholy. I knew her to be devout 
and requested to see her. As soon as I approached, 1 
felt an impression that she sought purity. I desired 
of the Superior that she should not be locked up, nor 
should people be admitted to see her, but that she 
would confide her to my care; for I hoped things 
would change. I discovered that her greatest pain 
was at being counted a fool. I advised her to bear the 
state of foolishness, since Jesus Christ had been willing 
to bear it before Herod. This sacrifice gave her a 
calmness at once. But as God was willing to purify 
her soul, He separated her from all those things for 
which she had before the greatest attachment. At last, 
after she had patiently undergone her sufferings, her 
Superior wrote to me that I was in the right, and 
that she had now come out of that state of dejection, 
in greater purity than ever. The Lord gave to me 
alone at that time to know her state. This was the 
commencement of the gift of discerning spirits, which 
I afterwards received more fully. 

The winter before I left home was one of the long- 
est and hardest that had been for several years, viz., 
that of 1680. It was followed with extreme scarcity, 
which proved to me an occasion of exercising charity. 
My mother-in-law joined me heartily herein, and 
appeared to me so much changed, that I could not but 



140 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

be both surprised and overjoyed at it. We distributed 
at the house ninety-six dozen loaves of bread every 
week, but the private charities to the bashful poor 
were much greater. I kept poor boys and girls em- 
ployed at work. And the Lord gave such blessings 
to my alms, that I did not find that my family lost 
anything by it. Before the death of my husband, my 
mother-in-law told him, that I would ruin him with my 
charities, though he himself was so charitable, that in 
a very dear year, while he was young, he distributed a 
considerable sum ; but now she repeated this to him so 
often, that he commanded me to set down in writing 
all the money I laid out, both what I gave for the 
expense of the house, and all that I caused to be 
bought, that from thence he might better judge of 
what I gave to the poor. This new obligation, which I 
was brought under, appeared to me so much the harder, 
as for above eleven years we had been married I never 
before had this required of me. What troubled me 
most was the fear of having nothing to give to such 
as wanted. However, I submitted to it, without re- 
trenching any part of my charities. I did not indeed 
set down any of my alms, and yet my account of 
expenses was found to answer exactly. I was much 
surprised and astonished at it, and esteemed it one of 
the wonders of Providence, for I saw plainly it was 
simply given out of Thy treasury, my Lord, that 
made me more liberal of what I thought was the 
Lord's, and not mine. 

What gave me now no small concern was the tender- 
ness I had for my children, especially my younger son, 
whom I had strong reasons for loving. I saw him 
inclined to be good, and everything seemed to favor 



IN LABORS MORE ABUNDANT 141 

the hopes I had conceived of him. I thought it run- 
ning a great risk to leave him to another's education. 
My daughter I designed to take with me, though she 
was at this time ill of a very tedious fever. Providence 
was pleased, however, so to order it that she speedily 
recovered. The ties, with which the Lord held me 
closely united to Himself, were infinitely stronger than 
those of flesh and blood. Though I often hesitated, and 
doubted much before I went, I never doubted after my 
going off, of its being His will; and though men, who 
judge of things only according to the success they seem 
to have, have taken occasion from my disgraces and suf- 
ferings, to judge of my calling, and to run it down as 
error, illusion and imagination ; it is that very persecu- 
tion, and the multitude of strange crosses it has drawn 
upon me (of which this imprisonment I now suffer is 
one), which have confirmed me in the certainty of its 
truth and validity ; nay, I am more than ever convinced 
that the resignation which I have made of everything is 
in pure obedience to the divine will. The gospel effect- 
ually in this point shows itself to be true, which has 
promised to those that shall leave all for the love of the 
Lord, "an hundred fold in this life, and persecutions 
also." And have not I infinitely more than an hundred 
fold, in so entire a possession as Thou, my Lord, hast 
taken of me; in that unshaken firmness which Thou 
givest me in my sufferings, in a perfect tranquillity in 
the midst of a furious tempest, which assaults me on 
every side; in an unspeakable joy, enlargedness and 
liberty which I enjoy in a most straight and rigorous 
captivity. I have no desire that my imprisonment 
should end before the right time. I love my chains. 
Everything is equal to me, as I have no will of my ow^ 






142 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

but purely the love and will of Him who possesses me. 
My senses indeed have not any relish for such things, 
but my heart is separated from them, and borne over 
them ; and my perseverance is not of myself, but of Him 
who is my life; so that I can say with the apostle, "It is 
no more I that live, but Jesus Christ that liveth in me." 
It is He in whom I live, move, and have my being. 

I was not so reluctant now to go with the New Cath- 
olics, as I was to engage with them, not finding a suf- 
ficient attraction, though I sought for it. I longed in- 
deed to contribute to the conversion of wandering 
souls, and God made use of me to convert several fami- 
lies before my departure, one of which was composed 
of eleven or twelve persons. Besides, Father La Combe 
had written to me, to make use of this opportunity for 
setting off, but did not tell me whether I ought to en- 
gage with them or not. Thus it was the Providence of 
my God alone, which ordered everything, to which I 
was resigned without any reserve, and that hindered 
me from engaging with them. 

One day, through infidelity, reflecting humanly on 
this undertaking of mine, I found my faith staggering, 
weakened with a fear lest I were under a mistake, 
which slavish fear was increased by an ecclesiastic at 
our house, who told me it was a rash and ill-advised 
design. Being a little discouraged, I opened the Bible, 
and at first met with this passage in Isaiah, "Fear not, 
thou worm Jacob, and ye men of Israel. I will help 
thee, saith the Lord, and thy Redeemer, the holy one of 
Israel." Chap. lxi. 14, and near it, "Fear not; for I 
have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name; 
thou art Mine. When thou passest through the waters, 
I will be with thee," etc. I had very great courage 



IN LABORS MORE ABUNDANT 143 

given me for going, but could not persuade myself that 
it would be best to settle with the New Catholics. 

My first thought had been (before I heard of the 
New Catholics going to Gex) to go directly to Geneva, 
as at this time there were Catholics there in service, 
and otherwise; and to take some little room without 
any noise, and without declaring myself at first ; and as 
I knew how to make up all sorts of ointments to heal 
wounds and especially the king 's evil, of which there is 
aboundance in that place, and for which I had a most 
certain cure, I hoped easily to insinuate myself by this 
way, and with the charities which I should have done 
to have won over many of the people. I have no 
doubt but, if I had followed this impulse, things would 
have succeeded better. But I thought I ought to fol- 
low the sentiments of the Bishop rather than my own. 
What am I saying? Has not Thy eternal Word, my 
Lord, had its effect and accomplishment in me? Man 
speaks as man ; but when we behold things in the Lord, 
we see them in another light. Yes, my Lord, Thy de- 
sign was to give Geneva not to my cares, words or 
works, but to my sufferings ; for the more I see things 
appear hopeless, the more do I hope for the conversion 
of that city by a way known to Thee only. 

Father La Combe has told me since, that he had a 
strong impulse to write to me, not to engage with the 
New Catholics ; that he believed it not to be the will of 
the Lord concerning me ; but he omitted doing it. As 
to my director, M. Bertot, he died four months before 
my departure. I had some intimations of his death, 
and it seemed as if he bequeathed me a portion of his 
spirit to help his children. 



XVII. NEW SCENES AND EXPERIENCES. 



I WENT off, in a strange renunciation, and in 
great simplicity, scarcely able to render the 
reason why I should in such a manner quit my 
family, which I most tenderly loved. Being with- 
out any positive assurance, yet hoping even against 
hope itself. I went to the New Catholics at Paris, where 
Providence wrought wonders to conceal me. They sent 
for the Notary, who had drawn up the contract of en- 
gagement. When he read it to me, I felt such a repug- 
nance to it, that I could not bear to hear it to the end, 
much less sign it. I was enabled through divine assist- 
ance, to put my affairs in very good order, and to write 
sundry letters by the inspiration of God, and not by my 
own spirit. This was what I had never experienced 
before. It was given me at that time only as a begin- 
ning, and has since been granted me much more per- 
fectly. 

I took with me my only daughter, and two maids to 
serve us both. We set off in a boat upon the river, 
though I had taken places in the stage-coach, in order 
that, if they searched for me in the coach, they might 
not find me. I went to Melun to wait for it there. 

It was surprising that in this boat the child, without 
adverting to what she did, could not forbear making 
crosses, employing a person to cut rushes for her to 
use for that purpose. She then put around, and all 
over me, above three hundred of them. I let her do it, 
and inwardly apprehended that it was not without its 
meaning. I felt an interior certainty that I was going 



NEW SCENES AND EXPERIENCES 145 

to meet with crosses in abundance ; and that this child 
was sowing the cross for me to reap it. Sister Gamier, 
who saw that they could not restrain her from covering 
me with crosses, said to me, "What that child does 
appears to be significant ;" and turning to the little 
girl, she said, "Give me some crosses, too, my pretty 
pet." "No," she replied, "they are all for my dear 
mother.' ' Soon she gave her one to stop her importu- 
nity, then continued putting more on me ; after which 
she desired some river-flowers, which floated on the 
water, to be given her ; and braiding a garland she put 
it on my head, and said to me, "After the cross you 
shall be crowned." I admired all this in silence, and 
offered myself up to the pure love of God, as a victim, 
free and willing to be sacrificed to Him. 

Some time before my departure, a particular friend 
of mine, who is a true servant of God, related to me a 
vision she had respecting me. She saw my heart sur- 
rounded with thorns; that our Lord appeared in it 
well pleased ; that, though the thorns seemed likely to 
tear it, yet, instead of doing that, they only rendered it 
fairer, and our Lord's approbation the stronger. 

At Corbeil (a little town on the river Seine, sixteen 
miles south of Paris), I met with the priest whom God 
had first made use of, so powerfully to draw me to His 
love. He approved of my design to leave all for the 
Lord ; but he thought I should not be well suited with 
the New Catholics. He told me some things about 
them, to show that our leadings were incompatible. 
He cautioned me not to let them know that I walked in 
the inward path; that, if I did, I must expect noth- 
ing but persecution from them. But it is in vain to 
contrive to hide, when God sees it best for us to suffer, 



146 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

and when our wills are utterly resigned to Him, and 
totally passed into His. 

While at Paris I gave the New Catholics all the 
money I had. I reserved not to myself a single penny, 
rejoicing to be poor after the example of Jesus Christ. 
I brought from home nine thousand livres. As by my 
donation I had reserved nothing to myself, and by a 
contract lent them six thousand, which returned to 
my children but none of it to me, which gives me no 
trouble; for poverty, thus procured, constitutes my 
riches. The rest I gave entirely to the sisters that were 
with us, well as to supply their travelling expenses, as 
for the purchase of furniture. I did not reserve so 
much as my linen for my own use, putting it in the com- 
mon fund. I had neither a locked coffer nor purse. I 
had brought but little linen for fear of mistrust; and 
lest, in wanting to carry off clothes, I should have been 
discovered. My persecutors did not fail to report that 
I had brought great sums from home, which I had im- 
prudently expended, and given to the friends of Father 
La Combe, which is as false, as it is true I had not a 
penny. On my arrival at Annecy, a poor man asking 
alms, I, having nothing else, gave him the buttons from 
my sleeves. At another time I gave a poor man a little 
plain ring, in the name of Jesus Christ, which I had 
worn as a token of my marriage with Him. 

We joined the flying stage at Melun, where I left 
Sister Gamier, and went on with the other sisters, 
with whom I had no acquaintance. These carriages 
were very fatiguing, and I got no sleep through so 
long a journey ; and although my daughter, a very ten- 
der child, only five years of age, got scarcely any, yet 
we bore so great a fatigue without falling sick by the 



NEW SCENES AND EXPERIENCES 147 

way. This child had not an hour's uneasiness, although 
she was only three hours in bed every night. At an- 
other time, half this fatigue, or even the want of rest, 
would have thrown me into a fit of sickness. 

As soon as we arrived at the inn, I went to Church 
and stayed there till dinner time. In the coach, my 
divine Lord communed with me, and in me, in a man- 
ner which the others could not comprehend, and indeed 
did not perceive. The cheerfulness I showed, in the 
greatest dangers, encouraged them. I even sang hymns 
of joy at finding myself disengaged from the riches, 
honors and entanglements of the world. God in such 
a manner protected us, that He seemed to be to us 
"a pillar of fire by night, and a pillar of cloud by day." 
We passed over a very dangerous spot between Lyons 
and Chamberry. Our carriage broke as we were com- 
ing out of it. Had it happened a little sooner, we must 
have perished. 

We arrived at Annecy on Magdalene's eve, 1681; 
and on Magdalene's day the Bishop of Geneva per- 
formed divine service for us, at the tomb of St. Fran- 
cis de Sales. There I renewed my spiritual marriage 
with my Redeemer; as I did every year on this day. 

That day we left Annecy, and on the next went to 
prayers at Geneva, at the house of the French resident. 
I had much joy at the communion; and it seemed to 
me as if God more powerfully united me to Himself. 
And there I prayed to Him for the conversion of that 
great people. That evening we arrived late at Gex, 
where we found only bare walls ; though the Bishop of 
Geneva had assured me that the house was furnished, 
as undoubtedly he believed it to be. We lodged at 



148 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

the house of the sisters of charity, who were so kind as 
to give us their beds. 

I was in great pain of mind for my daughter, who 
visibly fell away. I had a strong desire to place her 
with the Ursulines at Thonon. My heart was so affected 
on her behalf, that I could not forbear weeping in 
secret for her in bed. Next day I said I would take my 
daughter to Thonon, and leave her there, till I should 
see how we might be accommodated here. They op- 
posed it strongly, after a manner which seemed very 
hard-hearted as well as ungrateful, seeing she was worn 
away to a skeleton. I looked upon the child as a 
victim whom I had imprudently sacrificed. I wrote 
to Father La Combe, entreating him to come and see 
me, to consult together about it, thinking I could not 
in conscience keep her in this place any longer. Sev- 
eral days passed without my having any answer. In 
the meantime I became resigned to the will of God, 
whether to have succor or not. 

Our Lord took pity on the lamentable condition of 
my daughter, and so ordered it, that the Bishop of 
Geneva wrote to Father La Combe, to come as speedily 
as possible to see us, and to console us. As soon as I 
saw that father, I was surprised to feel an interior 
grace, which I may call Communication ; and such as I 
had never had before with any person. I had no doubt 
of its being from God; so far from turning the mind 
from Him, it tended to draw it more deeply into Him. 
It dissipated all my pains, and established me in the 
most profound peace. 

God gave him at first much openness of mind to- 
ward me. He related to me the mercies God had 
shown him, and several extraordinary things, which 



NEW SCENES AND EXPERIENCES 149 

gave me at first some fear. I suspected some illusion, 
especially in such things as flatter, in regard to the 
future, little imagining then, that God would make use 
of me to draw him from that state, and bring him into 
that of naked faith. But the grace, which flowed from 
him into my soul, recovered me from that fear, as I 
saw that it was joined with extraordinary humility; 
and that far from being elevated with the gifts which 
God had liberally conferred upon him, or with his own 
profound learning, no person could have a lower opin- 
ion of himself than he had. He told me as to my 
daughter, it would be best for me to take her to Thonon, 
where he thought she would be very well situated. 
And as to myself, after I had mentioned to him my 
dislike to the manner of life of the New Catholics, he 
told me that he did not think that it would be my 
proper place to be long with them; but that it would 
be best for me to stay there, free from all engage- 
ments, till God, by the guidance of His providence, 
should make known to me how He would dispose of 
me, and draw my mind to the place whither He would 
have me remove. I had already begun to awake reg- 
ularly at midnight, in order to pray. At this time I 
awoke with these words suddenly put in my mind, ' ' It 
is written of me, I will do thy will, my God." This 
was accompanied with the most pure, penetrating, and 
powerful communication of grace that I had ever ex- 
perienced. From midnight I continued on my knees 
till four o'clock in the morning, in prayer, in a sweet 
intercourse with God, and did the same thing also the 
night following. 

The next day, after prayers, Father La Combe told 
me, that he had a very great certainty, that I was a 



150 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

stone which God designed for the foundation of some 
great building. But what that building was he knew 
no more than I. After whatever manner then it is to 
be, whether His divine Majesty will make use of me in 
this life, for some design known to Himself only, or will 
make me one of the stones of the new and heavenly 
Jerusalem, it seems to me that such stone cannot be 
polished, but by the strokes of the hammer; and that 
our Lord has given to this soul of mine the qualities of 
the stone, viz., firmness, resignation, insensibility, and 
power to endure hardness under the operations of His 
hand. 

I carried my little daughter to the Ursulines at 
Thonon. That poor child took a great fondness for 
Father La Combe, saying, "He is a good father, one 
from God." Here I found a hermit, whom they called 
Anselm. He was a person of the most extraordinary 
sanctity, that had appeared for some time. He was 
from Geneva; and God had miraculously drawn him 
from thence at twelve years of age. He had at nine- 
teen years of age taken the habit of hermit of St. 
Augustine. He and another lived alone in a little her- 
mitage, where they saw nobody but such as came to 
visit their chapel. He had lived twelve years in this 
hut, never eating anything but pulse with salt, and 
sometimes oil. Three times a week he lived on bread 
and water. He never drank wine, and generally made 
but one meal in twenty-four hours. He wore for a 
shirt a coarse hair cloth, and lodged on the bare 
ground. He lived in a continual state of prayer, and 
in the greatest humility. God had done by him many 
signal miracles. 



NEW SCENES AND EXPERIENCES 151 

This good hermit had a great sense of the designs 
of God on Father La Combe and me. But God showed 
him at the same time that strange crosses were prepar- 
ing for us both, and that we were both destined for the 
aid of souls. I did not find, as I expected, any suitable 
place for my daughter at Thonon. In regard to her, I 
thought myself like Abraham, when going to sacrifice 
his son. I found little encouragement to leave her 
there, and could not keep her with myself, because we 
had no room; and the little girls, whom they took to 
make Catholics, were all mixed with us, and had con- 
tracted such habits as were pernicious. To leave her 
there I thought not right. The language of the coun- 
try, where scarce anyone understood French, and the 
food, which she could not take, being so far different 
from ours, were great hardships. All my tenderness 
for her was awakened, and I looked on myself as her 
destroyer. I experienced what Hagar suffered when 
she put away her son Ishmael in the desert, that she 
might not be forced to see him perish. I thought, that 
even if I had ventured to expose myself, I ought at 
least to have spared my daughter; as the loss of her 
education, and even of her life, appeared to me inevi- 
table. Everything looked dark in regard to her. 

She could eat nothing of what was offered her. All 
her subsistence was a little unpleasant and disagreeable 
broth, which I forced her to take against her will. I 
seemed like a second Abraham, holding the knife over 
her to destroy her. Our Lord would have me make a 
sacrifice to Him, without any consolation, and plunged 
in sorrow, night was the time in which I gave vent to 
it. He made me see, on one side, the grief of her 
grandmother, if she should hear of her death, which 



152 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

she would impute to my taking the child away from 
her, and the great reproach, it would be accounted 
among all the family. The gifts of nature she was 
endowed with were now like pointed darts which 
pierced me. I believe that God so ordered it, to purify 
me from too human an attachment, which was still in 
me, for after I returned from the Ursulines at Thonon, 
they changed her manner of diet, and gave her what 
was suitable to her delicacy, whereby, in a short time 
she recovered finely. 

As soon as it was known in France that I was gone, 
there was a general outcry. Father de la Mothe wrote 
to me, that all persons of learning and of piety united 
in censuring me. 

Here I both ate and slept little. The food which 
was given us was putrid and full of worms, by reason 
of the great heat of the weather, and being kept too 
long; insomuch, that what I should have formerly 
beheld with the greatest abhorrence, now became my 
only nourishment; and yet everything was rendered 
easy to me. In God I found, without increase, every- 
thing which I had lost for Him. That spirit, which I 
once thought I had lost in a strange stupidity, was 
restored to me with inconceivable advantages. I was 
astonished at myself. I found there was nothing which 
I was not fit for, or in which I did not succeed. Those 
who observed this, said I had a prodigious capacity. 
I well knew that I had but meagre capabilities, but 
that in God my spirit had received a quality which it 
had never had before. I thought I experienced some- 
thing of the state which the apostles were in, after they 
had received the Holy Ghost. I knew, I comprehended, 
I understood, I was enabled to do everything requisite. 



NEW SCENES AND EXPERIENCES 153 

I had every sort of good thing, and no want of any- 
thing. I remembered that fine passage of wisdom, 
"All good things came to me with her." (Wisdom of 
Sol. vii. 2.) When Jesus Christ, the eternal wisdom, 
is formed in the soul, after the death of the first Adam, 
it finds in Him all good things communicated to it. 

Sometime after my arrival at Gex, the Bishop of 
Geneva came to see us. He was so clearly convinced, 
and so much affected, that he could not forbear express- 
ing it. He opened his heart to me on what God had 
required of him. He confessed to me his own devia- 
tions and infidelities. Every time, when I spoke to 
him, he entered into what I said, and acknowledged it 
to be the truth, as indeed it was the Spirit of truth 
which inspired me to speak to him, without which I 
should be only a mere simpleton. And yet as soon as 
persons spoke to him, who sought for pre-eminence, 
and who could not suffer any good but what came 
from themselves, he was so weak as to let himself be 
imposed on with impressions against the truth. This 
weakness has hindered him from doing all the good 
which otherwise he might have done in his diocese. 

After I had spoken to him, he said he had it in 
his mind to give me Father La Combe for director ; for 
that he was a man illuminated of God, who well under- 
stood the inward path, and had a singular gift of paci- 
fying souls. These were his own words. Greatly was 
I rejoiced when the Bishop appointed him, seeing 
thereby his authority united with the grace which 
already seemed to have given him to me, by a union 
and effusion of supernatural life and love. The fatigues 
I had, and watchings with my daughter, threw me into 
a violent sickness, attended with exquisite pain. The 



154 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

physicians judged me in danger, and yet the sisters of 
the house quite neglected me ; especially the stewardess. 
She was so penurious, that she did not give me what 
was necessary to sustain life. I had not a penny to 
help myself with, as I had reserved nothing to myself. 
And beside, they at that time received all the money 
which was remitted to me from France, which was 
very considerable. Thus I practiced poverty, and was 
in necessity even among those to whom I had given all. 
They wrote to Father La Combe, desiring him to come 
to me, as I was so extremely ill. On hearing of my 
condition, he was so touched with compassion, as to 
walk on foot all night, it being eight great leagues ; but 
he travelled not otherwise, endeavoring in that, as in 
everything else, to imitate our Lord Jesus Christ. 

As soon as he entered the house, my pains abated; 
and when he had prayed and blessed me, laying his 
hand on my head, I was perfectly cured, to the great 
astonishment of my physicians, who were not willing 
to acknowledge the miracle ; being not well pleased, as 
they knew that we were come on a religious motive, 
and their sentiments and profession was so opposite to 
ours. These sisters advised me to return to my daugh- 
ter. Father La Combe returned with me. A violent 
storm arose on the lake, which made me very sick, and 
seemed likely to overset the boat. But the hand of 
Providence remarkably appeared in our favor ; so much 
so, that it was taken notice of by the mariners and pas- 
sengers, who looked upon Father La Combe as a saint. 



XVIII. SANCTIFIOATION BY FA ITU. 



I WOULD willingly suppress what I am now about 
to write if anything of it were my own, as well 
on account of the difficulty of expressing myself 
thereon, as because few souls are capable of under- 
standing divine leadings which are so little known, 
and so little comprehended. I have myself nev- 
er read of anything like it. I shall say something 
of the interior dispositions I was then in, and I 
shall think my time well employed, if it serves you who 
are willing to be of the number of my children, and if 
it serves such as are already my children, to induce 
them to let God glorify Himself in them after His man- 
ner, and not after their own. If there be anything 
which they do not comprehend, let them die to them- 
selves, and they will find it much easier to learn by 
experience than from anything I could say; for ex- 
pression never equals experience. 

After I had come out of the trying condition I have 
spoken of, I found it had purified my soul, instead of 
blackening it as I had feared. I possessed God after a 
manner so pure, and so immense, as nothing else could 
equal. In regard to thoughts or desires, all was so 
clean, so naked, so lost in the divinity, that the soul 
had no selfish movement, however plausible or delicate ; 
both the powers of the mind and the very senses being 
wonderfully purified. Sometimes I was surprised to 
find that there appeared not one selfish thought. The 
imagination, formerly so restless, now no more troubled 
me. I had no more perplexity or uneasy reflections. 



156 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

The will, being perfectly dead to all its own appetites, 
was become void of every human inclination, both nat- 
ural and spiritual, and only inclined to whatever God 
pleased, and to whatever manner He pleased. This 
vastness or enlargedness, which is not bounded by any- 
thing, however plain or simple it may be, increases 
every day; so that my soul in partaking of the quali- 
ties of her Spouse, seems also to partake of His immen- 
sity. My prayer was in an openness and singleness 
inconceivable. I was, as it were, borne up on high, 
out of myself. I believe God was pleased to bless me 
with this experience, at the beginning of the new life, 
to make me comprehend, for the good of other souls, 
the simplicity and desirableness of this passage of the 
soul into God. 

"When I went to confess, I felt such an immersion 
of the soul into Him, that I could scarcely speak. This 
ascension of the spirit, wherein God draws the soul so 
powerfully, not into its own inmost recess, but into 
Himself, is not operated till after the death of self. 

It is certain that the soul, by death to itself, passes 
into its divine Object; and this is what I then experi- 
enced. I found, the farther I went, the more my spirit 
was lost in its Sovereign, who attracted it more and 
more to Himself. And He was pleased at first that I 
should know this for the sake of others, and not for 
myself. Indeed He drew my soul more and more into 
Himself, till it lost itself entirely out of sight, and 
could perceive itself no more. It seemed at first to pass 
into Him. 

The joy which such a soul possesses in its God is so 
great, that it experiences the truth of those words of 
the royal prophet, "All they who are in Thee, Lord, 



SANCTIFICATION BY FAITH 157 

are like persons ravished with joy." To such a soul 
the words of our Lord seem to be addressed, "Your 
joy no man shall take from you." John xvi. 22. It is 
as it were plunged in a river of peace. Its prayer is 
continual. Nothing can hinder it from praying to God, 
or from loving Him. Oh, unutterable happiness ! Who 
could ever have thought that a soul, which seemed to 
be in the utmost misery, should ever find a happiness 
equal to this? Oh happy poverty, happy loss, happy 
nothingness, which gives no less than God Himself in 
His own immensity, no more circumscribed to the lim- 
ited manner of the creature, but always drawing it out 
of that, to plunge it wholly into His divine essence. 

Then the soul knows that all the states of self -pleas- 
ing visions, openings, ecstasies and raptures, are rather 
obstacles ; that they do not serve this state which is far 
above them ; because the state which has supports, has 
pain to lose them, and yet cannot arrive at this without 
such loss. In this are verified the words of an experi- 
enced saint: "When I would," says he, "possess noth- 
ing through self-love, everything was given me without 
going after it. ' ' Oh happy dying of the grain of wheat, 
which makes it produce an hundred-fold! The soul is 
then so passive, so equally disposed to receive from the 
hand of God either good or evil, as is astonishing. 

After I finished my retreat with the Ursulines at 
Thonon, I returned through Geneva, and, having found 
no other means of conveyance, the French resident lent 
me a horse. As I knew not how to ride on horseback, 
I made some difficulty of doing it; but as he assured 
me that it was a very quiet horse, I ventured to mount 
him. There was a sort of a smith, who looking at me 
with a wild haggard look, struck the horse a blow on 



158 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

the back, just as I had got upon him, which made him 
give a leap. He threw me on the ground with such 
force that they thought I was killed. I fell on my tem- 
ple. My cheek-bone and two of my teeth were broken. 
I was supported by an invisible hand; and in a little 
time I mounted as well as I could on another horse 
and had a man by my side to keep me up. 

My relations left me in peace at Gex, testifying 
their esteem for me, and as they had heard at Paris of 
my miraculous cure, it made a great noise there. Many 
persons in reputation for sanctity then wrote to me. 1 
received letters from Mademoiselle De Lamoignon, and 
another young lady, who was so moved with my an- 
swer, that she sent me a hundred pistoles for our house, 
and let me know beside that, when we wanted money, I 
had only to write to her, and that she would send me 
all I could desire. 

My near relations did not signify any eager desire 
for my return. The first thing they proposed to me, 
a month after my arrival at Gex, was not only to give 
up my guardianship, but to make over all my estate to 
my children, and to reserve an annuity to myself. This 
proposition, coming from people who regarded nothing 
but their own interest, to some might have appeared 
very unpleasing, but it was in no wise so to me. I had 
not any friend to advise with. I knew not anyone 
whom I could consult about the manner of executing 
the thing, as I was quite free and willing to do it. It 
appeared to me that I had now the means of accom- 
plishing the extreme desire I had of being comf ormable 
to Jesus Christ, poor, naked, and stripped of all. They 
sent me an article to execute, which had been drawn 
under their inspection, and I innocently signed it, not 



SANCTIFICATION BY FAITH 159 

perceiving some clauses which were inserted therein. 
It expressed that, when my children should die, I 
should inherit nothing of my own estate, but that it 
should devolve to my kindred. There were many 
other things, which appeared to be equally to my dis- 
advantage. Though what I had reserved to myself was 
sufficient to support me in this place, yet it was scarce- 
ly enough to do so in some other places. I then gave 
up my estate with more joy, and being thereby con- 
formed to Jesus Christ, I have never repented of it, nor 
had any uneasiness about it. What pleasure to lose all 
for the Lord ! The love of poverty, thus contracted, is 
the kingdom of tranquillity. 

I forgot to mention that, towards the end of my 
miserable state of privation, when just ready to enter 
into newness of life, our Lord illuminated me clearly to 
see that the exterior crosses came from Him, and that I 
could not harbor any resentment against the persons 
who procured me them. On the contrary, I felt the 
tenderness of compassion for them, and had more pain 
for those afflictions which I innocently caused to them, 
than for any which they had heaped upon me. I saw 
that these persons feared the Lord too much to oppress 
me as they did, had they known it. I saw His hand in 
it, and I felt the pain which they suffered, through the 
contrariety of their humors. It is hard to conceive the 
tenderness which the Lord gave me for them, and the 
desire which I have had, with the utmost sincerity, to 
procure them every sort of advantage. 

After the accident which befell me, of the fall from 
the horse, from which I soon wonderfully recovered, 
the devil began to declare himself more openly mine 
enemy, to break loose and become outrageous. One 



160 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

night, when I least thought of it, something very mon- 
strous and frightful presented itself. It seemed a kind 
of face, whieh was seen by a glimmering blueish light. 
I don't know whether the flame itself composed that 
horrible face or appearance, for it was so mixed and 
passed by so rapidly, that I could not discern it, but my 
soul rested in its calm situation and assurance, and it 
appeared no more after that manner. As I arose at 
midnight to pray, I heard frightful noises in my cham- 
ber, and after I had lain down they were still worse; 
my bed often shook for a quarter of an hour at a time, 
and the paper sashes were all burst. Every morning 
while this continued, they were found shattered and 
torn, yet I felt no fear. I arose and lighted my wax- 
candle at a lamp which I kept in my chamber, looking 
all over the chamber, and at the sashes, at the very 
time the noise was strongest. As he saw that I was 
afraid of nothing, he left off all on a sudden, and at- 
tacked me no more in person; but he stirred up men 
against me, and that succeeded far better with him; 
for he found them disposed to do what he prompted 
them to, zealously, inasmuch as they counted it a good 
thing to do me the worst of injuries. 

One of the sisters whom I had brought with me, a 
very beautiful girl, contracted an intimacy with an 
ecclesiastic, who had authority in this place. At first 
he inspired her with an aversion for me, being well 
assured that if she placed confidence in me, I should 
advise her not to suffer his visits so frequently. She 
was undertaking a religious retreat. That ecclesiastic 
was desirous to induce her to make it, in order to gain 
her entire confidence, which would have served as a 
cloak to his frequent visits. The Bishop of Geneva 



SANCTIFICATION BY FAITH 161 

had given Father La Combe for director to our house, 
and as he was going to cause retreats to be made, I 
desired her to wait for him. As I had gained some 
share in her esteem, she submitted thereto, even against 
her inclination, which was to have made it under this 
ecclesiastic. I began to talk to her on the subject of 
inward prayer, and drew her into the practice of this 
duty. Our Lord gave such a blessing thereto, that this 
girl gave herself to God in right earnest, and with her 
whole heart ; and the retreat completely won her over. 
She then became more reserved, and on her guard, to- 
wards this ecclesiastic, which exceedingly vexed him. 
It enraged him both against Father La Combe and me, 
and proved the source of the persecutions which after- 
wards befell me. 

He began to talk privately of me with much con- 
tempt. I knew it, but took no notice of it. There 
came a certain friar to see him, who mortally hated 
Father La Combe, on account of his regularity. These 
combined together to force me to quit the house, that 
they might become masters of it themselves. All the 
means they could devise they used for that purpose. 

I saw crosses in abundance likely to fall to my lot. 
At the same time these words came into my mind, 
14 Who for the joy that was set before him endured the 
cross." Heb. xii. 2. I prostrated myself for a long 
time with my face on the ground, earnestly desiring to 
receive all Thy strokes. Oh, Thou who spared not 
Thine own Son ! Thou couldst find none but Him 
worthy of Thee, and Thou still findest in Him hearts 
proper for Thee. 

A few days after my arrival at Gex, I saw in a sacred 
and mysterious dream Father La Combe fastened up to 



162 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

an enormous cross, stripped in like manner as they 
paint our Savior. I saw around it a frightful crowd, 
which covered me with confusion, and threw back on 
me the ignominy of his punishment. He seemed to 
have most pain, but I more reproaches than he. I have 
since beheld this fully accomplished. 

The aforesaid ecclesiastic won over to his party one 
of our sisters, who was the house-steward, and soon 
after the prioress. I was of a very delicate frame, the 
good inclination which I had did not give strength to 
my body. I had two maids of my own with me to 
serve me; yet, as the community had need of one of 
them for their cook, and the other to attend the door 
and other occasions, I gave them up, not thinking but 
they would allow them to serve me sometimes, and 
assist me in things I was not able to do myself; for 
besides this, I let them still receive all my income, they 
having had already my first half of this year's annuity. 
yet they would not permit either of my maid-servants 
to do anything for me. By my office of sacristan I 
was obliged to sweep the Church, which was large, and 
they would not let anyone help me in it. I have sev- 
eral times fainted away over the broom, and have been 
forced to rest myself in little corners, quite spent. 
Ihis obliged me to beg them, that they would suffer it 
sometimes to be swept by some of the strong country 
girls which were there, New Catholifes, which at last 
they had the charity to consent to. But what most 
embarrassed me was that I never had washed, and was 
now obliged to wash all the vestry linen. I took one 
of my maids to help me, because in attempting it by 
myself, I had done up the linen most awkwardly. But 
these sisters pulled her by the arms out of my chamber, 



SANCTIFICATION BY FAITH 163 

telling her she should do her own business. I let it 
quietly pass, without making any objection to it. The 
other good sister, the girl I just mentioned, grew more 
and more fervent, by the practice of prayer in her dedi- 
cation of herself to the Lord, more and more tender 
in her sympathy with me, which irritated this eccle- 
siastic ; insomuch that, after all his impotent attempts 
here, he went off to Annecy, in order to sow discord, 
and to effect more mischief to Father La Combe. 

He went directly to the Bishop of Geneva, who till 
then had manifested much esteem and kindness for 
me, and persuaded him that it would be proper to 
secure me to that house, to oblige me to give up to it 
the annual income I had reserved to myself; and to 
engage me thereto, by making me prioress. He had 
gained such an ascendency over the Bishop, that the 
people in the country called him the Little Bishop. 
Vv T heref ore he drew him to enter heartily and with zeal 
into this proposition, and to resolve to bring it about 
whatever it should cost him. 

The ecclesiastic, having so far carried his point, and 
being swelled with his success in this first essay, no 
longer kept any measures in regard to me. He began 
with causing all the letters which I sent, and those 
which were directed to me, to be stopped; in order to 
have it in his powar to make what imprfessitms he 
pleased on the minds of others, and thia't I should 
neither be able to know it, nor to defend myself i nor to 
give or send to my friends any account of the manner 
in which I was treated. One of the maids I had 
brought wanted to return, as she could have no rest in 
this place, and the other that remained was infirm, and 
too much taken up by others to help me in anything. 



164 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

As Father La Combe was soon to come, I thought he 
would soften the violent spirit of this man, and that he 
would give me proper advice. 

In the meantime they proposed to me the engage- 
ment, and the post of prioress. I answered that as 
to the engagement it was impossible for me, since my 
vocation was elsewhere. And I could not regularly be 
the prioress, till after passing through the novitiate, in 
which they had all served two years before their being 
engaged; that when I should have done as much, I 
should see how God would inspire me. The prioress 
replied pretty tartly that if I would ever leave them 
it were best for me to do it immediately. Yet I did 
not offer to retire, but continued still to act as usual. 
However, I saw the sky gradually thickening, and 
storms gathering on every side. The prioress then 
affected a milder air. She assured me that she had 
a desire, as well as I, to go to Geneva; that I should 
not engage, but only promise her to take her with me, 
if I went thither. She pretended to place a great 
confidence in me, and professed a high esteem for me. 
As I am very free, and have nothing but uprightness, I 
let her know that I had no attraction for the manner 
of life of the New Catholics, by reason of the intrigues 
from without. Several things did not please me, be- 
cause I wanted them to be upright in everything. 
She signified that she did not consent to such tilings, 
but because that ecclesiastic told her they were neces- 
sary to give the house a credit in distant parts, and to 
draw charities from Paris. I answered that if we 
walked uprightly God would never fail us. He would 
sooner do miracles for us. I remarked to her that 
when, instead of sincerity, they had recourse to artifice, 



SANCTIFICA TION B Y PAITH 165 

charity grew cold, and kept herself shut up. It is God 
alone who inspires charity ; how, then, is it to be drawn 
by disguises? 

Soon after, Father La Combe came about the re- 
treats. This was the third and last time that he came 
to Gex. The prioress, after she had been tampering a 
good deal with me hereupon, having written him a 
long letter before his coming, and received his answer, 
which she showed me, now went to ask him whether 
she would one day be united to me at Geneva. He 
answered her with his usual uprightness, "Our Lord 
has made it known to me that you shall never be estab- 
lished at Geneva.' ' And soon after she died. "When 
he had uttered this declaration, she appeared enraged 
against both him and me, and went directly to that ec- 
clesiastic, who was in a chamber with the house-stew- 
ard, and they took their measures together, to oblige 
me either to engage or retire. They thought that I 
would sooner engage than retire, and they narrowly 
watched my letters. 

With a design to lay snares for him, he requested 
Father La Combe to preach, which he did — on this text, 
1 ' The king *s daughter is beautiful within. ' ' That eccle- 
siastic, who was present with his confidant, said it 
was preached against him, and was full of errors. He 
drew up eight propositions, and inserted in them what 
the other had not preached, adjusting them as mali- 
ciously as ever he could, and sent them to one of his 
friends in Rome, to get them examined by the Sacred 
Congregation, and by the Inquisition. Though he had 
very illy digested them, at Eome they were pronounced 
good. That greatly disappointed and vexed him. After 
having been treated in this manner, and opprobriously 



166 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

reviled by hhn in the most offensive terms, the father 
with much mildness and humility, told him that he 
was going to Anneey about some affairs of the eon- 
vent; and that if he had anything to write to the 
Bishop of Geneva, lie would take care of his letter. 
He then desired him to wait awhile, as he was going 
to write. The good father had the patience to wait 
above three hours, without hearing from him; though 
he had treated him exceedingly ill, so far as to snatch 
out of his hands a letter I had given him for that 
worthy hermit I have mentioned. Hearing he was not 
gone, but was still in the Church, I went to him, and 
begged him to send to see if the other's packet was 
ready ; because the day was so far gone, that he would 
be obliged to lodge by the way. When the messenger 
arrived, he found a servant of the ecclesiastic on horse- 
back, ordered to go at full speed, to be at Anneey 
before the father. He then returned an answer that 
he had no letters to send by him. This was so con- 
trived, that he might gain time to prepossess the Bishop 
for his purposes. Father La Combe then set off for 
Anneey, and on his arrival found the Bishop prepos- 
sessed, and in an ill humor. This was the substance 
of their discourse : 

Bishop. — You must absolutely engage this lady to 
give what she has to the house at Gex, and make her 
the prioress of it. 

Father La Combe. — You know, sir, what she has 
told you herself of her vocation, both at Paris and in 
this country. I do not believe that she will engage; 
nor is there any likelihood that, after quitting her all, 
in the hope of entering Geneva, she should engage else- 
where. She has offered to stay with those sisters as a 



SANCTIFICATION BY FAITH 167 

boarder. If they are willing to keep her as such, she 
will remain with them ; if not, she is resolved to retire 
into some convent, till God shall dispose of her other- 
wise. 

Bishop. — I know all that ; but she is so very obedient, 
that, if you order her, she will assuredly do it. 

F. La Combe. — It is for that reason, sir, that one 
ought to be cautious in the commands laid on her. 
Can I induce a foreign lady, who, for all her subsist- 
ence, has nothing but a small pittance she has reserved 
to herself, to give that up in favor of a house which is 
not yet established, and perhaps never will be? If the 
house should happen to fail, or be no longer of use, 
what shall that lady live on ? Shall she go to the hos- 
pital? 

Bishop. — These reasons are good for nothing. If 
you do not make her do what I have said, I will de- 
grade and suspend you. 

This manner of speaking somewhat surprised the 
father, who well understood the rules of suspension, 
which are not executed on such things. He replied : 

"I am ready, sir, not only to suffer the suspen- 
sion, but even death, rather than do anything against 
my conscience." — Having said that, he retired. 

He directly sent me this account by an express, to 
the end that I might take proper measures thereon. I 
had no other course to take but to retire into a convent. 
I received a letter informing me that the nun to whom 
I had entrusted my daughter had fallen sick, and desir- 
ed me to go to her for some time. I showed this 
letter to the sisters of our house, telling them I had 
a mind to go ; but if they ceased to persecute me, and 
would leave Father La Combe in peace, I would return 



168 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

as soon as the mistress of my daughter recovered. 
Instead of this, they persecuted me more violently, 
wrote to Paris against me, stopped all my letters, and 
sent libels against me around the country. 

The day after my arrival at Thonon, Father La Combe 
set off for the valley of Aoust, to preach there in 
Lent. He had come to take leave of me, and told me 
he should go from thence to Eome, and perhaps not 
return, as his superiors might detain him there; that 
he was sorry to leave me in a strange country, without 
succor, and persecuted of everyone. I replied, "My 
father, that gives me no pain; I use the creatures for 
God, and by His order. Through His mercy, I do very 
well without them, when He withdraws them; and I 
am very well contented never to see you, and to abide 
under persecution, if such be His will." He said he 
would go well satisfied to see me in such a disposition, 
and then took his leave and departed. 

As soon as I got to the Ursulines, a very aged and 
pious priest, who for twenty years past had not come 
out of his solitude, came to find me. He told me 
that he had a vision relative to me; that he had seen 
a woman in a boat on the lake, and that the Bishop of 
Geneva, with some of his priests, exerted all their ef- 
forts to sink the boat she was in, and to drown her; 
that he continued in this vision above two hours, with 
pain of mind ; that it seemed sometimes as if this woman 
were quite drowned, as for some time she quite disap- 
peared, but afterwards she appeared again, and ready 
to escape the danger, while the Bishop never ceased to 
pursue her. This woman was always equally calm, but 
he never saw her entirely free from him. From that he 
concluded that the Bishop would persecute me without 
intermission. 



XIX. GATHERING CLOUDS. 



AFTER Father La Combe was gone, the perse- 
cution raised against me became more violent. 
But the Bishop of Geneva still showed me 
some civilities, as well to try whether he could pre- 
vail on me to do what he desired, as to sound how 
matters passed in France, and to prejudice the minds 
of the people there against me, always preventing me 
from receiving the letters sent me. The ecclesiastic 
and his family had twenty-two intercepted letters, 
opened, on their table. There was one wherein was 
sent me a power of attorney to sign, of immediate con- 
sequence. They were obliged to put it under another 
cover, and send it to me. The bishop wrote to Father 
La Mothe, and had no difficulty to draw him into his 
party, for he was displeased with me on two accounts. 
First, that I had not settled on him a pension, as he 
expected, and as he told me very roughly several times. 
Secondly, I did not take his advice in everything. He 
at once declared against me. The bishop made him his 
confidant. It was he who uttered and spread abroad 
the news about me, which they sent him. They imag- 
ined, as was supposed, that I would annul the donation 
I had made, if I returned ; that, having the support of 
friends in France, I would find the means of breaking 
it ; but in that they were much mistaken, for I had no 
thought of loving anything but the poverty of Jesus 
Christ. 

The bishop continued to treat me with a show of 
respect; and yet at the same time he wrote to many 



170 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

persons at Paris, as did also the sisters of the house, to 
all those persons of piety who had written letters to me, 
to bias them as much as possible against me, and to 
avoid the blame which ought naturally to fall upon 
them, for having so unworthily treated a person who 
had given up everything to devote herself to the service 
of that diocese ; for after I had done this, and was not 
in a condition to return to France, they treated me 
extremely ill in every respect. There was scarcely any 
kind of false or fabulous story, likely to gain any 
credit, which they did not invent to cry me down. Be- 
side my having no way to make the truth known in 
France, our Lord inspired me with a willingness to 
suffer everything, without justifying myself ; so that in 
my case nothing was heard but condemnation, without 
any vindication. 

I was in this convent, and had seen Father La 
Combe no further than I have mentioned, yet they did 
not cease to publish, both of him and me, the most 
scandalous stories, as utterly false as anything could 
be, for he was then a hundred and fifty leagues from 
me. 

For some time I was ignorant of this. As I knew 
that all my letters were kept from me, I ceased to won- 
der at receiving none. I lived in this house with my 
little daughter in a sweet repose, which was a very 
great favor of Providence. During this time my mind 
was preserved calm and resigned to God. My silence 
was great ; and for some time I had leisure to taste of 
and enjoy the Divinity in my little cell. Afterwards 
that good sister almost continually interrupted me, 
and I answered everything she desired of me, both out 



GATHERING CLOUDS 171 

of condescension, and from a principle which I had to 
obey like a child. 

When I was in my apartment, without any other 
director than our Lord by His Spirit, however favored 
therein, as soon as one of my little children came to 
knock at my door, He required me to admit the inter- 
ruption. He showed me that it is not the actions in 
themselves which please Him, but the constant ready 
obedience to every discovery of His will, even in the 
minutest things, with such a suppleness, as not to stick 
to anything, but still to turn with Him at every call. 
My soul was then, I thought, like a leaf^ or a feather, 
which the wind moves what way soever it pleases ; and 
the Lord never suffers a soul so dependent upon, and 
dedicated to Him, to be deceived. 

My soul was in a state of entire resignation, and 
very great content, in the midst of such violent tem- 
pests. Persons came to tell me extravagant stories 
against Father La Combe. The more they said to me 
to his disadvantage, the more esteem I felt for him. I 
answered them, "Perhaps I may never see him again, 
but I shall ever be glad to do him justice. It is not he 
who hinders me from engaging at Gex. It is only be- 
cause I know it to be none of my vocation.' ' They 
asked me, "Who could know that better than the Bish- 
op?" They farther told me I was under a deception, 
and my state was good for nothing. This gave me no 
uneasiness, having referred to God the care of requir- 
ing, and of executing what He requires, and in what- 
ever manner He demands it. 

A soul in this state seeks nothing for itself, but all 
for God. Some may say, "What, then, does this soul?" 
It leaves itself to be conducted by God's providences. 



172 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

Outwardly, its life seems quite common; inwardly, 
it is wholly resigned to the divine will. The more 
everything appears adverse, and even desperate, the 
more calm it is, in spite of the annoyance and pain of 
the senses. But when the soul is entirely passed into 
its original Being, all these things no more cause any 
separation or partition. It finds no more of that im- 
purity which came from self-seeking, from a human 
manner of acting, from an unguarded word, from any 
warm emotion or eagerness, which caused such a mist, 
as it then could neither prevent nor remedy, having 
so often experienced its own efforts to be useless, and 
even hurtful, as they did nothing else but still more 
and more defile it. There is in such case no other way 
or means of remedy, but in waiting till the Sun of 
Righteousness dissipate those fogs, as the whole work 
of purification comes from God only. Afterwards this 
conduct becomes natural; and then the soul can say, 
with the royal prophet, " Though an host should en- 
camp against me, my heart shall not fear. Though 
war should rise against me, in Him will I confide.' ' 
For then, though assaulted on every side, it continues 
fixed as a rock. Having no will but for what God sees 
meet to order, be it what it may, high or low, great 
or small, sweet or bitter, honor, wealth, life, or any 
other object, what can shake its peace? It is true, 
our nature is so crafty that it worms itself through 
everything; and a selfish sight is like the basilisk's, it 
destroys. 

Trials are suited to the state of the soul, whether 
conducted by lights, gifts or ecstasies, etc., or by the 
entire destruction of self in the way of naked faith. 
Both these states are found in St. Paul. He tells us, 



GATHERING CLOUDS 173 

"And lest I should be exalted above measure, through 
the abundance of revelations, there was given to me a 
thorn in the flesh, the messenger of Satan to buffet 
me." He prayed thrice, and it was said to him, "My 
grace is sufficient for thee; for My strength is made 
perfect in weakness.' ' He proved also another state 
when he thus expressed himself, "Oh, wretched man 
that I am ! who shall deliver me from the body of this 
death?" To which he replies, "I thank God, it is 
done through Jesus Christ onr Lord." It is He who 
conquers death in us through His own life. Then there 
is no longer a sting in death, or thorn in the flesh, capa- 
ble of paining or hurting any more. 

At first indeed, and for a pretty long time after, the 
soul sees that nature wants to take some part with it 
in its trials; and then its fidelity consists in withhold- 
ing it, without allowing it the least indulgence, till it 
leaves everything to go on with God in purity as it 
comes from Him. Till the soul be in this state, it 
always sullies, by its own mixture, the operation of 
God, like those rivulets which contract the corruption 
of the places they pass through, but, flowing in a pure 
place, they then remain in the purity of their source. 
Unless God through experience, makes known His 
guidance to the soul it can never comprehend it. 

Oh, if souls had courage enough to resign them- 
selves to the work of purification, without having any 
weak and foolish pity on themselves, what a noble, 
rapid and happy progress would they make ! But few 
are willing to lose the earth. If they advance some 
steps, as soon as the sea is ruffled they are dejected; 
they cast anchor, and often desist from the prosecution 
of the voyage. Such disorders occasion selfish interest 



174 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

and self-love. It is of consequence not to look too 
much at one's own state, not to lose courage, not to 
afford any nourishment to self-love, which is so deep- 
rooted, that its empire is not easily demolished. Often 
the idea which a man falsely conceives of the greatness 
of his advancement in divine experience, makes him 
want it to be seen and known of men, and to wish to 
see the very same perfection in others. He conceives 
too low ideas of others, and too high of his own state. 
Then it becomes a pain to him to converse with people 
too human ; whereas, a soul truly mortified and resigned 
would rather converse with the worst, by the order of 
Providence, than with the best, of its own choice; 
wanting only to see or to speak to any as Providence 
directs, knowing well that all beside, far from helping, 
only hurt it, or at least prove very unfruitful to it. 

What, then, renders this soul so perfectly content? 
It neither knows, nor wants to know, anything but 
what God calls it to. Herein it enjoys divine content, 
after a manner vast, immense, and independent of ex- 
terior events; more satisfied in its humiliation, and in 
the opposition of all creatures, by the order of Prov- 
idence, than on the throne of its own choice. 

It is here that the apostolic life begins. But do all 
reach that state? Very few, indeed, as far as I can 
comprehend. There is a way of lights, gifts and graces, 
a holy life in which the creature appears all admirable. 
As this life is more apparent, so it is more esteemed of 
such, at least, as have not the purest light. The souls 
which walk in the other path are often very little 
known, for a length of time, as it was with Jesus Christ 
Himself, till the last years of His life. Oh, if I could 



GATHERING CLOUDS 175 

express what I conceive of this state ! But I can only 
stammer about it. 

Being, as I have said, with the Ursulines at Thonon, 
after having spoken to the Bishop of Geneva, and see- 
ing how he changed, just as others turned him, I wrote 
to him and to Father La Mothe, but all my efforts 
were useless. The more I endeavored to accommodate 
matters, the more the ecclesiastic tried to confound 
them, hence I ceased to meddle. 

One day I was told that the ecclesiastic had won 
over the good girl whom I dearly loved. So strong a 
desire I had for her protection that it had cost me 
much. I should not have felt the death of a child so 
much as her loss; at the same time I was told how to 
hinder it, but that human way of acting was repugnant 
to my inward sense ; and these words arose in my heart, 
"Except the Lord build the house," etc. 

And indeed He provided herein Himself, hindering 
her from yielding to this deceitful man, and thwarting 
the designs of him and his associates. As long as I was 
with her she still seemed wavering and fearful, but oh, 
the infinite goodness of God, to preserve without our 
aid what without His we should inevitably lose ! I was 
no sooner separated from her, but she became immov- 
able. 

As for me, there scarcely passed a day but they 
treat&d me with new insults ; their assaults came on me 
at unawares* The New Catholics, by the instigation of 
the Bishop of Geneva, the ecclesiastic, and the sisters at 
Gex, stirred up all the persons of piety against me. I 
had but little uneasiness on my own account. If I 
could have had it at all, it would have been on account 
of Father La Combe, whom they vilely aspersed, 



176 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

though he was absent. They even made use of his ab- 
sence, to overset all the good he had done in the coun- 
try, by his missions and pious labors, which were incon- 
ceivably great. At first I was too ready to vindicate 
him, thinking it justice to do it. I did not do it at all 
for myself, and our Lord showed me that I must cease 
doing it for him, in order to leave him to be more thor- 
oughly annihilated, because from thence he would draw 
a greater glory than ever he had done from his own 
reputation. 

Every day they invented some new slander. No 
kind of stratagem, or malicious device in their power, 
did they omit. They came to surprise and ensnare me 
in my words ; but God guarded me so well, that therein 
they only discovered their own malevolence. She who 
had the care of my daughter behaved roughly to me. 
Such are the persons who regulate themselves only by 
their gifts and emotions. When they do not see things 
succeed, and as they regard them only by their success, 
and are not willing to have the affront of their pre- 
tensions being thought uncertain, and liable to mistake, 
they seek without for supports. As for me who pre- 
tended to nothing, I thought all succeeded well, inas- 
much as all tended to self-annihilation. On another 
side, the maid I had brought, and who stayed with me, 
grew tired out. Wanting to go back again, she stunned 
me with her complaints, thwarting and chiding me from 
morning till night, upbraiding me with what I had left, 
and coming to a place where I was good for nothing. I 
was obliged to bear all her ill-humor and the clamor of 
her tongue. 

My own brother, Father La Mothe, wrote to me 
that I was a rebel to my bishop, staying in his diocese 



GA THERING CLOUDS 177 

only to give him pain. Indeed, I saw there was noth- 
ing for me to do here, so long as the bishop should be 
against me. I did what I could to gain his good will, 
but this was impossible on any other terms than the 
engagement he demanded, and that I knew to be my 
duty not to do. This, joined to the poor education of 
my daughter, affected my heart. When any glimmer- 
ing of hope appeared, it soon vanished, and I gained 
strength from a sort of despair. 

During this time Father La Combe was at Rome, 
where he was received with so much honor, and his 
doctrine was so highly esteemed, that the Sacred Con- 
gregation was pleased to take his sentiments on some 
points of doctrine, which were found to be so just, and 
so clear, that it followed them. 

About July, 1682, my sister, who was an Ursuline, 
got permission to come to the waters. She assisted 
in the education of my daughter, but she had fre- 
quent jarring with her tutoress — I labored but in vain 
for peace. By some instances which I met with in 
this place, I saw clearly that it is not great gifts 
which sanctify, unless they be accompanied with a pro- 
found humility; and that death to everything is infin- 
itely more beneficial; for there was one who thought 
herself at the summit of perfection, but has discovered 
since, by the trials which have befallen her, that she 
was yet very far from it. 0, my God, how true it is 
that we may have of Thy gifts, and yet be very imper- 
fect, and full of ourselves ! 

How very straight is the gate which leads to a life 
in God! how little one must be to pass through it, it 
being nothing else but death to self! But when we 
have passed through it, what enlargement do we find ! 



178 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

David saith (Psalm xviii. 19), "He brought me forth 
into a large place." And it was through humiliation 
and abasement that he was brought thither. 

The first Lent which I passed with the Ursulines, I 
had a very great pain in my eyes ; for that same impost- 
hume which I formerly had between the eye and the 
nose, returned upon me three times. The bad air, and 
the noisome chamber which I was in, contributed here- 
to. My head was frightfully swelled, but great was my 
inward joy. It was strange to see so many good crea- 
tures, who did not know me, love and pity me; and 
all the rest enraged against me, and most of them 
on reports entirely false, neither knowing me, nor 
why they hated me. To swell the stream of af- 
fliction yet more, my daughter fell sick and was likely 
to die ; there was but little hope of her recovery, when 
her mistress also fell ill. My soul, leaving all to God, 
continued to rest in a quiet and peaceable habitation. 
The senses indeed are sometimes ready to start aside, 
and to run off like truants; but every trouble flies 
before the soul which is entirely subjected to God. By 
speaking of a fixed state, I do not mean one which can 
never decline or fall, that being only in heaven. I call 
it fixed and permanent compared with the states which 
have preceded it, which were full of vicissitudes and 
variations. I do not exclude a state of suffering in the 
senses, or arising from superficial impurity, which re- 
mains to be done away, and which one may compare to 
refined but tarnished gold. It has no more need to be 
purified in the fire, having undergone that operation, 
but needs only to be burnished. So it seemed to be 
with me at that time. 



XX. CLIMBING SPIRITUAL HEIGHTS. 



MY daughter had the small-pox. They sent for 
a physician from Geneva, who gave her over. 
Father La Combe then came in to visit, 
and pray with her. He gave her his blessing; and 
soon after she wonderfully recovered. The persecu- 
tions of the New Catholics against me continued and in- 
creased; yet, for all that, I did not fail to do them 
all the good in my power. Father La Combe regu- 
lated many things in regard to my daughter, which 
vexed her mistress so much, that her former friend- 
ship was turned into coldness. She had grace, but 
suffered nature too frequently to prevail. I told her 
my thought on her faults, as I was inwardly directed 
to do ; but though, at that time, God enlightened her 
to see the truth of what I said, and she has been more 
enlightened since, yet the return of her coldness to- 
wards me ensued upon it. The debates between her 
and my sister grew more tart and violent. My daugh- 
ter, who was only six years and a half old, by her little 
dexterities, found a way to please them both, choosing 
to do her exercises twice over, first with the one, then 
with the other, which continued not long, for as her 
mistress generally neglected her, doing things at one 
time, and leaving them at another, she was reduced to 
learn only what my sister and I taught her. Indeed 
the changeableness of my sister was so excessive, that 
without great grace it was hard to suit one's self to it, 
and yet she appeared to me to surmount herself in 
many things. Formerly, I could scarce bear her man- 



180 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

ners, but I have since loved everything in God, who 
has given me a very great facility to bear the faults of 
my neighbor, with a readiness to please and oblige 
everyone, and such a compassion for their calamities or 
distresses as I n'ever had before. 

I have no difficulty to use condescension with im- 
perfect persons ; I should be secretly smitten if I failed 
therein, but with souls of grace I cannot bear this 
human manner of acting, nor suffer long and frequent 
conversations. It is a thing which few are capable of. 
Some religious persons say that these conversations 
are of great service. I believe it may be true for some, 
but not for all ; for there is a period wherein it hurts, 
especially when it is of our own choice, the human 
inclination corrupting everything. The same things 
which would be profitable, when God, by His Spirit, 
draws to them, become quite otherwise, when we of 
ourselves enter into them. 

The order of Divine Providence makes the whole 
rule and conduct of a soul entirely devoted to God. 
While it faithfully gives itself up thereto, it will do all 
things right and well, and will have everything it 
wants, without its own care; because God in whom it 
confides, makes it every moment do what He requires, 
and furnishes the occasions proper for it. God loves 
what is of His own order, and of His own will, not ac- 
cording to the idea of the merely rational or even en- 
lightened man; for He hides these persons from the 
eyes of others, in order to preserve them in that hidden 
purity for Himself. 

But how comes it that such souls commit any faults ? 
Because they are not faithful, in giving themselves up 
to the present moment. Often too eagerly bent on 



CLIMBING SPIRITUAL HEIGHTS 181 

something, or wanting to be over-faithful, they slide 
into many faults, which they can neither foresee nor 
avoid. Does God then leave souls which confide in 
Him? Surely not. Sooner would He work a miracle 
to hinder them from falling, if they were resigned 
enough to Him. They may be resigned as to the gen- 
eral will, and yet fail as to the present moment. Being 
out of the order of God, they fall. They renew such 
falls as long as they continue out of that divine order. 
When they return into it, all goes right and well. 

Most assuredly if such souls were faithful enough, 
not to let any of the moments of the order of God slip 
over, they would not thus fall. This appears to me as 
clear as the day. As a dislocated bone out of the place 
in which the economy of divine wisdom had fixed it, 
gives continual pain till restored to its proper order, so 
the many troubles in life, come from the soul not abid- 
ing in its place, and not being content with the order 
of God, and what is afforded therein from moment to 
moment. If men rightly knew this secret, they would 
all be fully content and satisfied. But alas ! instead of 
being content with what they have, they are ever wish- 
ing for what they have not, while the soul, which enters 
into the divine light begins to be in paradise. What 
is it that makes paradise? It is the order of God, 
which renders all the saints infinitely content, though 
very unequal in glory ! From whence comes it that so 
many poor indigent persons are so contented, and that 
princes and potentates, who abound to profusion, are 
so wretched and unhappy? It is because the man who 
is not content with what he has, will never be without 
craving desires ; and he who is the prey of an unsatis- 
fied desire, can never be content. 



182 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

All souls have more or less of strong and ardent 
desires, except those whose will is lost in the will of 
God. Some have good desires, so as to suffer martyr- 
dom for God; others thirst for the salvation of their 
neighbor, and some pant to see God in glory. All this 
is excellent. But he who rests in the divine will, al- 
though he may be exempt from all these desires, is infi- 
nitely more content, and glorifies God more. 

After Father La Combe was returned from Rome, 
well approved, and furnished with testimonials of his 
life and doctrine, he performed his functions of preach- 
ing and confessing as usual. I gave him an account of 
what I had done and suffered in his absence, and what 
care God had taken of all my concerns. I saw His 
providence incessantly extended to the very smallest 
things. After having been several months without any 
news of my papers, when some pressed me to write, 
and blamed my neglect, an invisible hand held me 
back; my peace and confidence were great herein. I 
received a letter from the ecclesiastic at home, which 
informed me that he had orders to come and see me, 
and bring me my papers. I had sent to Paris for a 
pretty considerable bundle of things for my daughter, 
and heard they were lost on the lake, as I could learn 
no further tidings about them. 

But I gave myself no trouble, I always thought they 
would be found. The man who had taken the charge 
of them made a search after them a whole month, in 
all the environs, without hearing any news about them. 
At the end of three months they were brought to me, 
having been found in the house of a poor man, who 
had not opened them, nor knew who had brought them 
there. Once I had sent for all the money which was 



CLIMBING SPIRITUAL HEIGHTS 183 

to serve me a whole year ; the person who had been to 
receive cash for the bill of exchange, having put that 
money in two bags on horseback, forgot that it was 
there, and gave the horse to a little boy to lead. The 
money fell from the horse in the middle of the market 
at Geneva. That instant I arrived, coming on the 
other side, and having alighted from my litter, the first 
thing I found was my money, in walking over it. 
What was surprising, a great throng was in this place, 
and not one had perceived it. Many such things have 
attended me, but these may suffice to show the contin- 
ual protection of God. 

The Bishop of Geneva wrote to me, with politeness 
and thanks for my charities at Gex, while at the same 
time he said to others that I gave nothing to that house. 
He wrote against me to the Ursulines with whom 1 
lived, charging them to hinder me from having any 
conferences with Father La Combe, for fear of bad con- 
sequences. The superior of the house, a man of merit, 
and the prioress, as well as the community, were so 
irritated at this, that they could not forbear testifying 
it to himself. He then excused himself with a pre- 
tended respect, saying he did not mean it that way. 
They wrote to him that I did not see the father but 
at the confessional ; that they were so much edified by 
me, as to think themselves happy in having me, and to 
esteem it a great favor from God. What they said out 
of pure charity was not pleasing to the Bishop, who, 
seeing they loved me in this house, said that I won 
over everybody to myself and that he wished I were out 
of the diocese. Though I knew all this, and these good 
sisters were troubled at it, I could have no trouble by 
reason of the calm establishment which I was in, the 



184 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

will of God rendering everything equal to me. The 
creatures, however unreasonable or p&^sionate they ap- 
pear, not being regarded in themselves but in God, for 
an habitual faith causes everything to be seen in God 
without distinction. Thus, when I see poor souls so 
ruffled, so uneasy for explanations, I pity them for their 
want of light. They have reasons, I know, which self- 
love causes to appear very just. 

To relieve myself a little from the fatigue of con- 
tinual conversation, as my body grew weak, I desired 
Father La Combe to allow me a retreat. It was then 
I perceived the quality of a spiritual mother; for the 
Lord gave me what I cannot express for the perfec- 
tion of souls. This I could not hide from Father La 
Combe. It seemed to me as if I entered into the 
inmost recesses of his heart. Our Lord showed me he 
was His servant, chosen among a thousand, singularly 
to honor Him; but that He would lead him through 
total death, and the entire destruction of the old man ; 
that He would have me contribute thereto, and be in- 
strumental to cause him to walk in the way in which 
he had led me first, in order that I might be in a con- 
dition to direct others therein, and to tell them the 
way through which I have passed ; that the Lord would 
have us to be conformed, and to become one in Him; 
that though my soul w r as more advanced now, yet 
he should one day pass beyond it, with a bold and 
rapid flight. God knows how I rejoiced herein, and 
with w r hat joy I would see my spiritual children surpass 
their mother in glory. 

In this retreat I felt a strong propensity to write, 
but resisted it till I fell sick. I had nothing to write 
about, not one idea to begin with. It was a divine 



CLIMBING SPIRITUAL HEIGHTS 185 

impulse with such a fulness of grace as was hard to 
contain, or bear. I opened this disposition of mine to 
Father La Combe. He answered me that he had a 
strong impulse to command me to write, but had not 
dared to do it yet, on account of my weakness. I told 
him that weakness was the effect of my resistance, 
and I believed it would, through my writing, go off 
again. He asked me, "But what is it you will write ?" 
I replied, "I know nothing of it, nor desire to know, 
leaving it entirely to God to direct me." He ordered 
me to do so. At my taking the pen I knew not the 
first word I should write, but when I began, suitable 
matter flowed copiously, nay, impetuously, and as I 
was writing I was relieved and grew better. I wrote 
an entire treatise on the interior path of faith, under 
the comparison of torrents, or of streams and rivers; 
and though it is pretty long, the comparison in it holds 
out to the end. 

As the way, wherein God now conducted Father 
La Combe, was very different from that in which he 
had formerly walked ; which had been all light, knowl- 
edge, ardor, assurance, sentiment, but now the poor, 
low, despised path of faith, and of nakedness ; he found 
it very hard to submit thereto, which caused me no 
little suffering. Who could express what it has cost 
my heart before he was formed according to the will of 
God? Meanwhile, the possession which the Lord had 
of my soul became every day stronger, insomuch that 
I passed whole days without being able to pronounce 
one word; for the Lord was pleased to make me pass 
wholly into Him by an entire internal transformation. 
He became more and more the absolute master of my 
heart, to such a degree as not to leave me a movement 






186 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

of my own, in order that I might be continually supple 
to every intimation of His will. This state did not hin- 
der me from condescending to my sister, and the others 
in the house. Nevertheless, the useless things with 
which they were taken up could not interest me. 

I had at that time so ardent a desire for the perfec- 
tion of Father La Combe, and to see him thoroughly 
die to himself, that I could have wished him all the 
crosses and afflictions imaginable, that might conduce 
to this great and blessed end. "Whenever he was un- 
faithful, or looked at things in any other light than 
the true one, viz., to tend to this death of self, I felt 
myself on the rack, which, as I had till then been so 
indifferent, very much surprised me. To the Lord I 
made my complaint, who graciously encouraged me, 
both on this subject and on that entire dependence on 
Himself which He gave me, which was such that I was 
like a new born infant. 

My sister had brought me a maid, whom God was 
willing to give me, to fashion her according to His will, 
not without some crucifixion to myself ; for I believe it 
never is to fall out, that our Lord will give me any 
persons without giving them wherewith to make me 
suffer for them, whether it be for the purpose of draw- 
ing them into a spiritual life, or never to leave me 
without the cross. She was one on whom the Lord 
had conferred very singular graces. She was in high 
reputation in the country, where she passed for a saint. 
Our Lord brought her to me, to let her see the differ- 
ence between the sanctity conceived and comprised in 
those gifts, with which she was endowed, and that 
which is obtained by our entire destruction, even by 
the loss of those very gifts, and of all that raised us in 



CLIMBING SPIRITUAL HEIGHTS 187 

the esteem of men. Our Lord had given her the same 
dependence on me, as I had in regard to Father La 
Combe, nevertheless with some difference. 

This girl fell grievously sick. I was willing to give 
her all the assistance in my power; but I found I had 
nothing to do but to command her bodily sickness, or 
the disposition of her mind; and all that I said was 
done. It was then that I learned what it was to com- 
mand by the Word, and to obey by the Word. It was 
Jesus Christ in me equally commanding and obeying. 

She, however, continued sick for sometime. One 
day, after dinner, I was moved to say to her, "Kise and 
be no longer sick." She arose and was cured. The 
nuns were very much astonished; and as they knew 
nothing of what had passed, but saw her walking, who 
in the morning had appeared to be in the last extrem- 
ity, they attributed her disorder to a vivid imagina- 
tion. 

I have at sundry times experienced, and felt in 
myself, how much God respects the freedom of man, 
and even demands his free concurrence; for when I 
said, "Be healed," or, "Be free from your troubles," if 
such persons acquiesced therein, the Word was effica- 
cious, and they were healed. If they doubted, or re- 
sisted, though under fair pretexts, as saying, "I shall 
be healed when it pleases God, I will not be healed till 
He wills it;" or, in the way of despair, "I cannot be 
healed; I will not quit my condition," then the Word 
had no effect. I felt in myself, that the divine virtue 
retired in me. I experienced what our Lord said, 
when the woman afflicted with the issue of blood 
touched Him, and He instantly asked, "Who touched 
Me ? " The apostles said, ' ' Master, the multitude throng 






188 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

Thee, and press Thee; and sayest Thou, Who touched 
Me?" But He replied, "It is because virtue hath gone 
out of me." (Luke viii. 45, 46.) Jesus Christ had caused 
that healing virtue to flow, through me, by means of 
His Word ; but when that virtue met not with a corres- 
pondence in the subject, I felt it suspended in its 
source, which gave me some pain. I should be, as it 
were, displeased with those persons, but when there 
was no resistance, but a full acquiescence, this divine 
virtue had its full effect. One cannot conceive the 
delicacy of this healing virtue. Although it has so 
much power over things inanimate, yet the least thing 
in man either restrains it, or stops it entirely. 

There was a good nun much afflicted, and under a 
violent temptation. She went to declare her case to a 
sister whom she thought very spiritual, and in a condi- 
tion capable of assisting her. But far from finding 
succor here, she was very much discouraged and cast 
down. The other despised and repulsed her, and treat- 
ing her with contempt and rigor, said, "Don't come 
near me, since you are that way." This poor girl, in 
a fright of distress came to me, thinking herself undone, 
on account of what the sister had said to her. I con- 
soled her, and our Lord relieved her immediately; but 
I could not then forbear telling her that assuredly the 
other would be punished, and would fall into a state 
worse than hers. The sister who had used her in such 
a manner came also to me, highly pleased with herself 
in what she had done, saying she abhorred such 
tempted creatures; that as for herself, she was proof 
against such sorts of temptations, and that she never 
had a bad thought. I said to her, "My sister, from 
the friendship I have for you I wish you the pain c 



CLIMBING SPIRITUAL HEIGHTS 189 

her who spoke to you, and even one still more violent.' ' 
She answered me haughtily, "If you were to ask it 
from God for me, and I ask of Him the contrary, I 
believe I shall be heard at least as soon as you. ,, I 
answered her with great firmness, "If it be only my 
own interests which I ask, I shall not be heard ; but if 
it be those of God only, and yours too, I shall be heard 
sooner than you are aware." That very night she fell 
into so violent a temptation that one equal to it has 
seldom been known, and she continued in it a fort- 
night. It was then she had ample occasion to ac- 
knowledge her own weakness, and what she would be 
without grace. She conceived at first a violent hatred 
for me, saying that I was the cause of her pain. But 
it served her as the clay did to enlighten him who had 
been born blind. She soon saw very well what had 
brought on her so terrible a state. 

I fell sick, even to extremity. This sickness proved 
a means to cover the great mysteries which it pleased 
God to operate in me. Scarce ever was a disorder more 
extraordinary, or of longer continuance in its excess. 
Several times during its continuance, I saw in dreams 
Father La Mothe raising persecutions against me. Our 
Lord let me know that this would be the case, and 
that Father La Combe would forsake me in the time 
of persecution. This I wrote to him, and it disquieted 
him greatly, because he thought his heart was united 
to the will of God, and too desirous of serving me, to 
admit such desertion; and yet it has since been found 
quite true, though not with his will, but from necessity, 
having been himself persecuted the first. He was now 
to preach during Lent, and was so much followed, that 
people came five leagues, to pass several days there for 



190 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

the benefit of his ministry. I heard he was so sick 
that he was thought likely to die, and prayed to the 
Lord to restore his health, and enable him to preach to 
the people, who were longing to hear him. My prayer 
was heard, and he soon recovered, and resumed his 
pious labors. 

In this long malady, which continued more than six 
months, the love of God and of Him alone, made up my 
whole occupation, I seemed so entirely lost in Him, as to 
have no sight of myself at all. It seemed as if my heart 
never came out of that divine ocean, having been drawn 
into it through deep humiliations. Oh happy loss, 
which is the consummation of bliss, though operated 
through crosses and through deaths! 

Jesus was then living in me; and I lived no more. 
These words were imprinted in me, as a real state into 
which I must enter, (Matt. viii. 20). "The foxes have 
holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son 
of man hath not where to lay His head." This I have 
since experienced in all its extent, having no sure abode, 
no refuge among my friends, who were ashamed of 
me, and openly renounced me ; nor among my relations, 
most of whom declared themselves my adversaries, and 
were my greatest persecutors; while others looked on 
me with contempt and indignation. I might as David 
say, "For Thy sake I have borne reproach; shame hath 
covered my face ; I am become a stranger to my breth- 
ren, and an alien unto my mother's children; a re- 
proach to men, and despised of the people." 

He showed me all the world in a rage against me, 
without any one daring to appear for me ; and assured 
me in the ineffable silence of His eternal Word, that He 
would give me vast numbers of children, which I should 



CLIMBING SPIRITUAL HEIGHTS 191 

bring forth by the cross. I left it to Him, to do with 
me whatever He pleased, esteeming my whole and sole 
interest to be placed entirely in His divine Will. He 
gave me to see how the devil was going to stir up an 
outrageous persecution against prayer, yet it should 
prove the means which God would make use of to estab- 
lish it. He gave me to see farther how He would guide 
me into the wilderness, where He would cause me to be 
nourished for a time. The wings, which were to bear 
me thither, were the resignation of my whole self to His 
holy will, and the love of the same will. I think I am 
at present in that wilderness, separated from the whole 
world in my imprisonment; and I see already accom- 
plished in part what was then shown me. Can I ever 
express the mercies which my God has bestowed on 
me? No; they must ever remain in Himself, being of 
a nature not to be described, by reason of their purity 
and immensity. 

In this sickness I was often to all appearances at the 
point of death. I fell into convulsions from violent 
pains which lasted a long time with violence. Father 
La Combe administered the sacrament to me, the Prio- 
ress of the Ursulines having desired him to do it. I 
was well satisfied to die, and Father La Combe, who 
was on his knees at my bed-side, remarking the change 
of my countenance, and how my eyes faded, seemed 
ready to give me up, when God inspired him to lift up 
his hands, and with a strong voice, which was heard by 
all who were in my chamber, at that time almost full, 
commanded death to relinquish its hold. Instantly it 
seemed to be stopped ; and thus God was pleased won- 
derfully to 'raise me up again, yet for a long time I 
continued extremely weak, during all which our Lord 



192 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

still gave me new testimonials of His love. How many 
times was He pleased to make use of His servant to 
restore me to life, when I was almost on the very point 
of expiring! As they saw that my sickness and pain 
did not entirely end, they judged that the air of the 
lake on which the convent was situated, was very prej- 
udicial to my constitution, and concluded that it 
would be necessary for me to remove. 

During my indisposition, our Lord put it into the 
heart of Father La Combe to establish an hospital in 
this place for the poor people seized with maladies, 
and to institute also a committee or congregation of 
ladies, to furnish such as could not leave their families, 
to go to the hospital, with the means of subsistence, 
during their illness, after the manner of France, there 
not having been yet any institution of this kind in that 
country. "Willingly did I enter into it, and without 
any other fund than Providence, and some useless 
rooms which a gentleman of the town gave us, we 
began it. We dedicated it to the holy Child Jesus, and 
He was pleased to give the first beds to it from the ear- 
nestpence of my pension, which belong to Him. He 
gave such a blessing thereto, that several other persons 
joined us in this charity. In a short time there were 
nearly twelve beds in it, and three persons of great 
piety gave themselves to this hospital to serve it, who, 
without any salary, consecrated themselves to the ser- 
vice of the poor patients. I supplied them with oint- 
ments and medicines, which were freely given to such 
of the poor people of the town as had need of them. 
These good ladies were so hearty in the cause, that, 
through their charity, and the care of the young 
women, this hospital was very well maintained and 
served. 



CLIMBING SPIRITUAL HEIGHTS 193 

All these little things, which cost but little, and 
which owed all their success to the blessing which God 
gave them, drew upon us new persecutions. The 
Bishop of Geneva was offended with me more than 
ever, especially in seeing that these small matters ren- 
dered me beloved. He said I won over everybody, and 
openly declared that he could not bear me in his 
diocese, though I had done therein nothing but good, 
or rather God by me. 

I then went off from the Ursulines, and they sought 
for a house for me at a distance from the lake. There 
was but one to be found empty, which bad the look of 
the greatest poverty. It had no chimney but in the 
kitchen, through which one was obliged to pass to go 
to the chamber. I took my daughter with me, and 
gave up the largest chamber for her, and the maid 
who was to take care of her. I was lodged in a little 
hole, on straw, to which I went up by a ladder. As 
we had no other furniture but our beds, which were 
quite plain and homely, I bought some straw chairs 
and some Dutch earthen and wooden ware. Never did 
I enjoy a greater content than in this little hole, which 
appeared so very conformable to the state of Jesus 
Christ. I laid in all my provisions, hoping to stay there 
a long time, but the devil did not leave me long in 
such sweet peace. It would be difficult for me to tell 
the persecutions which were stirred up against me. 
They threw stones in at my windows, which fell at my 
feet. I had put my little garden in order, but they 
came in the night, tore it all up, broke down the arbor, 
and overturned everything in it, as if it had been rav- 
aged by soldiers. They came to abuse me at the door 
all night long, making such a racket as if they were 



194 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

going to break it open. These persons have since told 
who the person was that put them on such work. 

Though from time to time I continued my charities 
at Gex, I was not the less persecuted for it. They 
offered one person a warrant to compel Father La 
Combe to stay at Thonon, thinking he would otherwise 
be a support to me in the persecution, but we prevent- 
ed it. I knew not then the designs of God, and that 
He would soon draw me from that poor solitary place, 
in which I enjoyed a sweet and solid satisfaction, not- 
withstanding the abuses from without. I thought 
myself happier here than any sovereign on earth. It 
was for me like a nest and a place of repose, and 
Christ was willing that I should be like Him. The 
devil, as I have said, irritated my persecutors. They 
sent to desire me to go out of the diocese. All the 
good which the Lord had caused me to do in it was 
condemned, more than the greatest crimes. Crimes 
they tolerated, but me they could not endure. All this 
while I never had any uneasiness or repentance for my 
having left all ; not that I was assured of having done 
the will of God therein. Such an assurance would 
have been too much for me. But I could neither see 
nor regard anything, receiving everything alike from 
the hand of God, who directed and disposed of these 
crosses for me either in justice or in mercy. 

The Marchioness of Prunai had sent an express from 
Turin, in the time of my illness, to invite me to come 
to reside with her; and to let me know that, being 
so persecuted as I was in this diocese, I should find an 
asylum with her until things might grow better. I 
was not at that time in a condition to execute what she 
desired of me, and she wrote to me about it no more. 



CLIMBING SPIRITUAL HEIGHTS 195 

This lady is one of extraordinary piety, who had 
quitted the splendor and noise of the Court, for the 
more silent satisfaction of a retired life, and to give 
herself up to God. With an eminent share of natural 
advantages, she has continued a widow twenty-two 
years, and has refused every offer of marriage, to 
consecrate herself to our Lord entirely and without 
any reserve. When she knew that I had been obliged 
to leave the Ursulines, yet without knowing anything 
of the manner in which I had been treated, she pro- 
cured a letter to oblige Father La Combe to go to 
pass some weeks at Turin, for her own benefit, and 
to bring me with him thither, where I should find 
a refuge. All this she did unknown to us, and, as she 
has told us since, a superior force moved her to do it, 
without knowing the cause thereof. If she had delib- 
erately reflected on it, being such a prudent lady, she 
probably would not have done it, because the persecu- 
tions, which the Bishop of Geneva procured us in that 
place, cost her more than a little of humiliations. Our 
Lord permitted him to pursue me, after a surprising 
manner, into all the places I have been in, without 
giving me any relaxation, though I never did him any 
harm, but on the contrary, would have laid down my 
life for the good of his diocese. 

As this fell out without any design on our part, we, 
without hesitation, believed it was the will of God, 
thought it might be the means of His appointment 
to draw us out of the reproach and persecution we 
labored under, seeing myself chased on the one side, 
and desired on the other. It was therefore concluded 
that Father La Combe should conduct me to Turin, 
and that he should go from thence to Verceil. 



196 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

Beside him, I took with me a religious man of 
merit, who had taught theology for fourteen years past, 
to take away from our enemies all cause for slander; 
also a boy whom I had brought out of France. They 
took horses, and I hired a carriage for my daughter, 
my chambermaid and myself. But all precautions are 
useless, when it pleases God to permit them to be frus- 
trated. Our adversaries immediately wrote to Paris. 
A hundred ridiculous stories were circulated about 
this journey; comedies were acted on it, things in- 
vented at pleasure, and as false as anything in the 
world could be. It was my brother, Father de la 
Mothe, who was so active in uttering all this stuff. 
Had he believed it to be true, he ought out of charity 
to have concealed it; and much more, being so very 
false. They said I was gone all alone with Father 
La Combe, strolling about the country, from province 
to province, with many such fables, as weak and wick- 
ed as they were incoherent and badly put together. 
We suffered all with patience, without vindicating our- 
selves, or making any complaint. 

Scarcely were we arrived at Turin, but the Bishop 
of Geneva wrote against us. As he could pursue us no 
other way, he did it by his letters. Father La Combe 
repaired to Verceil, and 'I stayed at Turin, with the 
Marchioness of Prunai. But what crosses was I as- 
saulted with in my own family, from the Bishop of 
Geneva, from the Barnabites, and from a vast number 
of persons besides! My eldest son came to find me 
out, on the death of my mother-in-law, which was an 
augmentation of my troubles ; but after we had heard 
all his accounts of things, and how they had made sales, 
chosen guardians, and settled every article, without 



CLIMBING SPIRITUAL HEIGHTS 197 

consulting me at all, I seemed to be there entirely 
useless. 

The Marchioness of Prunai, who had been so warm- 
ly desirous of my company, seeing my great crosses 
and reproaches, looked coldly upon me. My childlike 
simplicity, which was the state wherein God at that 
time kept me, passed with her for stupidity, though in 
that condition He inspired me to utter oracles. For 
when the question was to help anyone, or about any- 
thing which God required of me, He gave me, with the 
weakness of a child, the evident tokens of divine 
strength. Her heart was quite shut up to me all the 
time I was there. Our Lord, however, made me fore- 
tell events which should happen, and which since that 
time have actually been fulfilled, as well to herself as to 
her daughter, and to the virtuous ecclesiastic who lived 
at her house. She did not fail, at last, to conceive 
more friendship for me, seeing then that Christ was in 
me. It was the force of self-love and fear of reproach, 
which had closed up her heart. Moreover, she thought 
her state more advanced than in reality it was, by 
reason of her being without tests ; but she soon saw by 
experience that I had told her the truth. She was 
obliged for family reasons to leave Turin, and solicited 
me to go with her, but the education of my daughter 
did not permit of my compliance. To stay at Turin 
without her seemed improper, because, having lived 
very retired in this place, I made no acquaintance in it. 
I knew not which way to turn. The Bishop of Verceil, 
where Father La Combe was, most obligingly wrote to 
me, earnestly entreating me to come thither, promising 
me his protection, and assuring me of his esteem, add- 
ing that he should look upon me as his own sister ; that 



198 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

he wished extremely to have me there. It was his 
own sister, one of my particular friends, who had 
written to him about me, as had also a French gentle- 
man, an acquaintance of his. But a point of honor 
kept me from it. I would not have it said that I had 
gone after Father La Combe, and that I had come to 
Turin only for the purpose of going to Vereeil. He 
had also his reputation to preserve, which was the 
cause that he could not agree to my going thither, 
however importunate the Bishop was for it. Had we 
believed it to be the will of God, we would both of us 
have passed over these considerations. God kept us 
both in so great a dependence on His orders, that He 
did not let us foreknow them, but the divine moment 
of His providence determined everything. This proved 
of very great service to Father La Combe, who had 
long walked in assurances, to die to them and to him- 
self, for God by an effect of His goodness, that he 
might thus die without any reserve, took them all from 
him. 

During the whole time of my residence at Turin, 
our Lord conferred on me very great favors. I found 
myself every day more transformed into Him, and had 
continually more knowledge of the state of souls, with- 
out ever being mistaken or deceived therein, though 
some were willing to persuade me to think the con- 
trary. I had used my utmost endeavors to give 
myself other thoughts, which has caused me not a little 
pain. When I told, or wrote to Father La Combe 
about the state of some souls, which appeared to him 
more perfect and advanced than the knowledge given 
to me of them, he attributed it to pride. He was very 
angry with me, and prejudiced against my state. I 



CLIMBING SPIRITUAL HEIGHTS 199 

had no uneasiness on account of his esteeming me the 
less, for I was not in a condition to reflect whether he 
esteemed me or not. He could not reconcile my wil- 
ling obedience in most things, with so extraordinary a 
firmness, which in certain cases he looked upon as 
criminal. He admitted a distrust of my grace, for he 
was not yet sufficiently confirmed in his way, nor did 
he duly comprehend, that it did not in any wise depend 
on me to be one way or another ; and that if I had any 
such power, I should have suited myself to what he 
said, to spare myself the crosses which my firmness 
caused me ; or, at least, would have artfully dissembled 
my real sentiments. But I could do neither. Were 
all to perish by it, I was in such a manner constrained, 
that I could not forbear telling him the things, just as 
our Lord directed me to tell them to him. In this He 
has given me an inviolable fidelity to the very last. No 
crosses or pains have ever made me fail a moment 
therein. These things then, which appeared to him to 
be the strong prejudice of a conceited opinion, set him 
at variance against me. And though he did not openly 
show it, but on the contrary, tried to conceal it from 
me, yet how far distant soever he were from me, I 
could not be ignorant of it; my spirit felt it, and that 
more or less, as the opposition was stronger or weaker ; 
and as soon as it abated or ended, my pain, occasioned 
thereby, ceased. He also, on his side, experienced the 
like. He has told me and written to me many times 
over, "When I stand well with God, I find I am well 
with you. When I am otherwise with Him, I then 
find myself to be so with you also." 

While he was at Turin, a widow who was a good 
servant of God, all in the brightness of sensibility, 



200 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

came to him to confess. She uttered wonderful things 
of her state. I was then at the other side of the confes- 
sional. He told me he had met with a soul given up 
to God; that it was she who was present; that he was 
very much edified by her and that he was far from 
finding the like in me; that I operated nothing but 
death upon his soul. At first I rejoiced at his having 
met with such a holy soul, as it ever gives me the high- 
est joy to see my God glorified. As I was returning, 
the Lord showed me clearly the state of that soul, as 
only a beginning of devotion mixed with affection and 
a little silence, filled with a new sensation. This and 
more, as it was set before me, I was obliged to write 
to him upon it. On his first reading of my letter, he 
discovered the stamp of truth in it, but soon after, let- 
ting in again his old reflections, viewed all I wrote in 
the light of pride, for he still had in his mind the ordi- 
nary rules of humanity conceived and comprised after 
our manner. As to me, I let myself be led as a child, 
who says and does, without distinction, whatever it is 
made to say and do. I left myself to be led whereso- 
ever my heavenly Father pleased, high or low; all was 
alike good to me. 

Some time after he sufficiently discovered, by that 
person's manner of acting, that she was very far from 
what he had thought of her. 



XXI. THE MINISTRATIONS OF THE SPIRIT. 



ONE night in a dream our Lord showed me, 
that He would also purify the maid whom He 
had given me, and make her truly enter into 
death to herself. I then freely resolved to suffer for 
her, as I did for Father La Combe. As she resisted God 
much more than he, and was much more under the 
power of self-love, she had more to be purified from. 
What I could not tolerate in her was her regard for 
herself. I saw clearly that the devil cannot hurt us, 
but so far as we retain some fondness for this corrupt 
self. The sight was from God, who gave me the dis- 
cerning of spirits, which would ever accept what was 
from Him, or reject what was not; and that not from 
any common methods of judging, not from any out- 
ward information, but by an inward principle which is 
His gift alone. 

That this point be not mistaken, it is needful to 
mention here that souls which are yet in themselves, 
whatever degree of light and ardor they have attained, 
are unqualified for it. They often think they have this 
discernment, when it is nothing else but sympathy or 
antipathy of nature. Our Lord had destroyed in me 
every sort of natural antipathy. The soul must be 
very pure, and depending on God alone, that all these 
things may be experienced in Him. In proportion as 
this maid became inwardly purified, my pain abated, 
till the Lord let me know her state was going to be 
changed, which soon happily ensued. In comparison 
of inward pain for souls, outward persecutions, though 
ever so violent, scarce gave me any. 



202 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

The Bishop of Geneva wrote to different kinds of 
persons. He wrote in my favor to such as he thought 
would show me his letters, and quite the contrary in 
the letters which he thought I would never see. It was 
so ordered that these persons, having showed each 
other their letters received from him, were struck with 
indignation to see in him so shameful a duplicity. 
They sent me those letters that I might take proper 
precautions. I kept them two years, and then burnt 
them, not to hurt the prelate by them. The strongest 
battery he raised against me was what he did with the 
Secretary of State, who held that post in conjunction 
with the Marchioness of Prunai's brother. He used 
all imaginable endeavors to render me odious, and to 
cry me down. He employed certain abbots for that 
purpose, insomuch that, though I appeared very little 
abroad, I was well known by the descriptions this 
bishop had given of me. This did not make so much 
impression as it would have done, if he had appeared 
in a better light at Court. Some letters of his, which 
her royal highness found after the prince 's death, which 
he had written to him against her, had that effect on 
the princess, that, instead of taking any notice what 
he now wrote against me, she showed me great respect, 
and sent her request to me to come to see her. Accord- 
ingly I waited on her. She assured me of her protection, 
and that she was glad of my being in her dominions. 

It pleased God here to make use of me to the con- 
version of two or three ecclesiastics. But I had much 
to suffer from their repugnances and many infidelities, 
one of whom had villified me greatly, and even after 
his conversion turned aside into his old ways ; but God 
at length graciously restored him. 



THE MINISTRATIONS OF THE SPIRIT 203 

As I was undetermined whether I should place my 
daughter at the Visitation of Turin, or take some other 
course, I was exceedingly surprised, at a time I least 
expected it, to see Father La Combe arrive from Ver- 
ceil, and tell me I must return to Paris without any 
delay. It was in the evening, and he said I must 
set off next morning. I confess this sudden news 
startled me. It was for me a double sacrifice to return 
to a place where they had cried me down so much. 
Behold me then disposed to go off, without offering a 
single word in reply, with my daughter and my cham- 
bermaid, without anybody to guide and attend us ; for 
Father La Combe was resolved not to accompany me, 
not so much as in passing the mountains, because the 
Bishop of Geneva had written on all sides that I had 
gone to Turin after him. But the Father Provincial, 
who was a man of quality, and well acquainted with the 
virtue of Father La Combe, told him that it was im- 
proper and unsafe to venture on these mountains, with- 
out some person of my acquaintance and the more as 
I had my little daughter with me ; and that he therefore 
ordered him to accompany me. Father La Combe con- 
fessed to me that he had some reluctance to do it, and 
that only obedience, and the danger to which I should 
have been exposed, made him surmount it. He was 
only to accompany me to Grenoble, and from thence to 
return to Turin. I went off then, designing for Paris, 
there to suffer whatever crosses and trials it should 
please God to inflict. 

What made me pass by Grenoble was the desire I 
had to spend two or three days with a lady, an eminent 
servant of God, and one of my friends. When I was 
there Father La Combe and that lady spoke to me not 



204 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

to go any farther ; that God would glorify Himself in 
me and by me in that place. He returned to Verceil, 
and I left myself to be conducted as a child by Provi- 
dence. This lady took me to the house of a good 
widow, there not being accommodations at the inn, and 
as I was ordered to stop at Grenoble, at her house 
I resided. I placed my daughter in a convent, and 
resolved to employ all this time in resigning myself to 
be possessed in solitude by Him who is the absolute 
Sovereign of my soul. I made not any visit in this 
place, but I was greatly surprised when, a few days 
after my arrival, there came to see me several persons 
who made profession of a singular devotion to God. 
I perceived immediately a gift which He had given 
me, of administering to each that which suited their 
states. I felt myself invested, all on a sudden, with the 
apostolic state, and discerned the conditions of the 
souls of such persons as spoke to me, and that with 
so much facility, that they were surprised at it, and 
said one to another that I gave every one of them the 
very thing they had stood in need of. It was Thou, 
my God, who didst all these things. Some of them sent 
others to me. It came to such an excess, that, gener- 
ally from six in the morning till eight in the evening, 
I was taken up in speaking of the Lord. People 
flocked on all sides, far and near, friars, priests, men 
of the world, maids, wives, widows, all came one after 
another; and the Lord supplied me with what was 
pertinent and satisfactory to them all, after a won- 
derful manner, wdthout any share of my study or medi- 
tation therein. Nothing was hid from me of their 
interior state, and of what passed within them. Here, 
my God, Thou madest an infinite number of conquests 



THE MINISTRATIONS OF THE SPIRIT 205 

known to Thyself only. They were instantly furnished 
with a wonderful facility for prayer. God conferred on 
them His grace plentifully, and wrought marvellous 
changes in them. The most advanced of these souls 
found, when with me, in silence, a grace communicated 
to them which they could neither comprehend, nor cease 
to admire. The others found an unction in my words, 
and that they operated in them what I said to them. 
They said they had never experienced anything like it. 

One thing was surprising, which was, that I had 
not a syllable to say to such as came only to watch my 
words, and to criticize them. Even when I thought to 
try to speak to them, I felt that I could not, and that 
God would not have me do it. Some of them in return 
said, "The people are fools to go to see that lady. She 
cannot speak." Others of them treated me as if I were 
only a stupid simpleton. After they left me there came 
one and said, "I could not get hither soon enough to 
apprize you not to speak to those persons; they come 
from such and such, to try what they could catch from 
you to your disadvantage.' ' I answered them, "Our 
Lord has prevented your charity ; for I was not able to 
say one word to them." 

I felt that what I spoke flowed from the fountain, 
and that I was only the instrument of Him who made 
me speak. Amidst this general applause, our Lord 
made me comprehend what the apostolic state was, 
with which He had honored me; that to give one's self 
up to the help of souls, in the purity of His Spirit, was 
to expose one's self to the most cruel persecutions. 
These very words were imprinted on my heart: "To 
resign ourselves to serve our neighbor is to sacrifice 
ourselves to a gibbet." Such as now proclaim, 'Blessed 



206 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

is He who cometh in the name of the Lord,' will soon 
cry out, 'Away with Him, crucify Him.' " One of my 
friends speaking of the general esteem the people had 
for me, I said to her, "Observe what I now tell you, 
that you will hear curses out of the same mouths which 
at present pronounce blessings.' ' Our Lord made me 
comprehend that I must be conformable to Him in all 
His states, and that, if He had continued in a private 
life with His parents, He never had been crucified ; that, 
when He would resign any of His servants to cruci- 
fixion, He employed such in the ministry and service of 
their neighbors. It is certain that all the souls em- 
ployed herein by apostolic destination from God, and 
who are truly in the apostolic state, are to suffer ex- 
tremely. I speak not of those who put themselves 
into it, who, not being called of Ood in a singular man- 
ner, and having nothing of the grace of the apostle- 
ship, have none of its crosses ; but only those wiio sur- 
render themselves to God without any reserve, and who 
are willing with their whole hearts to be exposed, for 
His sake, to sufferings without any mitigation. 

Among so great a number of good souls, on whom 
our Lord wrought much by me, some were given me 
only as plants to cultivate. I knew their state, but had 
not that near connection with, or authority over them, 
which I had over others. It was then that I compre- 
hended the true maternity beyond what I had done 
before; for those of the latter kind were given me as 
children, of whom some were faithful. I knew they 
would be so, and they were closely united to me in 
pure charity. Others were unfaithful; I knew that of 
these some would never turn from their infidelity, 
and they were taken from me; some, after slipping 



THE MINISTRATIONS OF THE SPIRIT 207 

aside, were recovered. Both of them cost me much 
distress and inward pain, when, for want of courage to 
die to themselves, they gave up the fight, and revolted 
from the good beginning they had been favored with. 

Among the friars who came to see me, there was 
one order which discovered the good effects of grace 
more than any other. Some of that very order had 
before this, in a little town where Father La Combe 
was in the exercise of his mission, been actuated with a 
false zeal and were violent in persecuting all the good 
souls which had sincerely dedicated themselves to God, 
plaguing them after such a manner as can scarce be 
conceived, burning all their books which treated of 
silent and inward prayer, refusing absolution to such 
as were in the practice of it, driving into consternation, 
and almost into despair, such as had formerly led 
wicked lives, but were now reformed, and preserved in 
grace by means of prayer, becoming spotless and 
blameless in their conduct. These friars had proceeded 
to such an excess of wild zeal as to raise a sedition in 
that town, in which a father of the oratory, a person of 
distinction and merit, received strokes with a stick in 
the open street, because he prayed extempore in the 
evenings, and on Sundays made a short, fervent prayer, 
which insensibly habituated these good souls to the use 
and practice of the like., 

I never in all my life had so much consolation as to 
see in this little town so many pious souls who with a 
heavenly emulation gave up their whole hearts to God. 
There were girls of twelv.e or thirteen years of age, who 
industriously followed their work almost all the day 
long, in silence, and in their employments enjoyed a 
communion with God, having acquired a fixed habit 



208 LIFE OP MADAM GUY ON 

herein. As these girls were poor, they placed them- 
selves two and two together, and such as could do it 
read to the others who could not. One saw there the 
innocence of the primitive Christian revived. There 
was in that town a poor laundress who had five chil- 
dren and a paralytic husband, lame in the right arm, 
and yet worse distempered in mind than in body. He 
had little strength left for anything else than to beat 
her. Yet this poor woman bore it all with the meek- 
ness and patience of an angel, while she by her labor 
supported him and his five children. She had a won- 
derful gift of prayer, and amidst her great suffering 
and extreme poverty, preserved the presence of God, 
and tranquility of mind. 

These friars sent for this woman and threatened her 
much if she did not leave off prayer, telling her it 
was only for churchmen to pray, and that she was very 
bold to practice it. She replied that Christ had 
commanded all to pray, and that He had said, "What I 
say unto you I say unto all." (Mark xiii, 33, 37), with- 
out specifying either priests or friars; that without 
prayer she could not support her crosses and poverty ; 
that formerly she had lived without it, and then was 
very wicked; that since she had been in the exercise 
of it, she had loved God with all her soul ; so that to 
leave off prayer was to renounce her salvation, which 
she could not do. She added that they might take 
twenty persons who had never practiced prayer, and 
twenty of those who were in the practice of it; then, 
said she, "Inform yourselves of the lives of both sorts, 
and ye will see if ye have any reason to cry out against 
prayer." Such words as these, from such a woman 
one would think might have fully convinced them, but 



THE MINISTRATIONS OF THE SPIRIT 209 

instead of that, it only irritated them the more. They 
assured her she should have no absolution till she 
promised them to desist from prayer. She said it 
depended not on her, and that Christ is Master of what 
He communicates to His creatures, and of doing with it 
what He pleases. They refused her absolution; and 
after railing at a good tailor, who served God with his 
whole heart, they ordered all the books without excep- 
tion, which treated on prayer to be brought to them, 
and they burned them with their own hands in the 
public square. They were very much elated with their 
performance, but all the town present arose in an 
uproar, on account of the late insolent and intolerable 
abuse of the father of oratory. The principal men 
went to the Bishop of Geneva and complained to him 
of the scandals of these new missionaries, so different 
from the others. Speaking of Father La Combe, who 
had been there before them on his mission, they said 
these seemed as if they were sent to destroy all the 
good he had done. The bishop was forced to come 
himself to that town, and there to mount the pulpit, 
protesting that he had no share in it, and that these 
fathers had pushed their zeal too far. The friars, on 
the other side declared, they had done all they did, 
pursuant to the orders given them. 

It was the friars of this very order whom our Lord 
made use of to establish prayer in I know not how 
many places. And, into the places where they went, 
they carried a hundred times more books of prayer 
than those which their brethren had burned. The 
hand of God appeared to me wonderfully in these 
things. 



210 UFB OF MADAM GUYON 

One day when I was sick, a brother who had skill 
in curing diseases, came for a charitable collection, but 
hearing I was ill, came in to see me. We entered into 
a conversation which revived in him the love he had 
for God, which he acknowledged had been too much 
stifled by his occupation. I made him comprehend 
that there was no employment which should hinder 
him from loving God, and from being occupied within 
himself. He readily believed me, as he already had a 
good share of piety, and of an interior disposition. 
Our Lord conferred on him many favors and gave him 
to be one of my true children. 

This physician was disposed to lay open his heart 
to me like a child. Our Lord gave him through me all 
that was necessary for him; for though disposed to 
the spiritual life, yet for want of courage and fidelity 
he had not duly advanced in it. 

He had occasion to bring to me some of his com- 
panions who were friars, and the Lord took hold of 
them all. It was at the very same time, that the 
others of the same order were making all the ravages 
I have mentioned, and opposing with all their might 
the Holy Spirit of the Lord. I could not but admire to 
see how the Lord was pleased to make amends for 
former damages, by the pouring out His Spirit in 
abundance on these men, while the others were labor- 
ing vehemently against it, doing all they could to 
destroy its dominion and efficacy in their fellow-mor- 
tals. But these good souls instead of being staggered 
by persecutions grew the stronger by it. The Supe- 
rior, and the master of the novices of the house in 
which the doctor was, declared against me, without 
knowing me; and were grievously chagrined that a 



THE MINISTRATIONS OP THE SPIRIT 211 

woman, as they said, sfiould be so much flocked to, 
and so much sought after. Looking at these things as 
they were in themselves, and not as they were in the 
Lord, who does whatever pleases Him, they had con- 
tempt for the gift which was lodged in so mean an 
instrument, instead of esteeming the Lord and His 
grace. Yet this good brother at length got the supe- 
rior to come to see me, and thank me for the good 
which he said I had done them. Our Lord so ordered, 
that he found something in my conversation which 
reached and took hold of him. At length he was 
completely brought over. And he it was, who 
some time after, being visitor, dispersed such a num- 
ber of those books, bought at their own charge, which 
the others had tried utterly to destroy. Oh, how won- 
derful, art Thou, my God ! 'In all Thy ways how wise, 
in all Thy conduct how full of love ! How well Thou 
canst frustrate all the false wisdom of men, and tri- 
umph over their vain pretentions! 

Many others were gained to God whom I looked on to 
be my true children. He gave me three famous friars 
of an order by which I have been, and still am, very 
much persecuted. He made me also of service to a 
great number of nuns, of virtuous young women, and 
even men of the world ; among the rest a young man of 
quality, who had quitted the order of the Knights of 
Malta to take that of the priesthood. He was the rela- 
tion of a bishop near him, who had other designs of 
preferment for him. He had been much favored of the 
Lord, and is constant in prayer. I could not describe 
the great number of souls which were then given me, 
maids as well as wives, priests and friars. But there 
were three curates, one canon, and one grand-vicar, 



212 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

who were more particularly given me. There was one 
priest very intimately given me, for whom I suffered 
much, through his not being willing to die to himself, 
and loving himself too much. With a sad regret I saw 
him decaying, falling away till he was quite snatched 
from me. As for the others there are some of them 
who have continued steadfast and immovable, and 
some of whom the tempest had shaken a little, but not 
torn away. Though these start aside, yet they still 
return ; but those who are snatched quite away return 
no more. 

A sister of another monastery had been for eight 
years in a deep melancholy, unrelieved by anyone. 
Her director increased it, by practicing remedies con- 
trary to her disorder. I had never been in that mon- 
astery, for I did not go into such places unless I was 
sent for, as I did not think it right to intrude, but left 
myself to be conducted of Providence. I was very 
much surprised that at eight o'clock at night one came 
for me from the prioress. It was in the long days of 
summer, and being near it, I went. I met with a sister 
who told me her case. She had gone to such excess, 
that seeing no remedy for it, she had taken a knife to 
kill herself, but the knife fell out of her hand; and a 
person coming to see her had advised her to speak to 
me. Our Lord made me know at first what the matter 
was ; and that He required her to resign herself to Him, 
instead of resisting Him as they had made her do for 
eight years. I was instrumental to draw her into such 
a resignation, that she entered at once into a peace of 
paradise; all her pains and troubles were instantly 
banished and never returned again. She has the 
greatest capacity of any in the house. She was pres- 



THE MINISTRATIONS OF THE SPIRIT 213 

ently so changed as to be the admiration of the whole 
community. Our Lord gave her a very great gift of 
prayer and His continual presence, with a faculty and 
readiness for everything. A domestic, also, who had 
troubled her for twenty-two years past, was delivered 
from her troubles, and is become a very religious 
woman. That produced a close tie of friendship 
between the prioress and me, as the wonderful change 
and the peace of this sister surprised her, she having 
so often seen her in her terrible sorrow. I also con- 
tracted other such ties in this monastery, where there 
are souls under the Lord's special regard, whom He 
drew to Himself by the means He had pleased to 
make choice of. 

I was especially moved to read the Holy Scriptures. 
When I began I was impelled to write the passage, and 
instantly its explication was given me, which I also 
wrote, going on with inconceivable expedition, light 
being poured in upon me in s'jch a manner, that I 
found I had in myself latent treasures of wisdom and 
knowledge which I had not yet known of. Before I 
wrote I knew not what I was going to write. And 
after I had written, I remembered nothing of what I 
had penned; nor could I make use of any part of it 
for the help of souls, but the Lord gave me, at the 
time I spoke to them, without any study or reflection 
of mine, all that was necessary for them. Thus the 
Lord made me go on with an explanation of the holy 
internal sense of the Scriptures. I had no other book 
but the Bible, nor ever made use of any but that, and 
without even seeking for any. When, in writing on the 
Old Testament, I made use of passages of the New, to 
support what I had said, it was without seeking them, 



214 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

they were given me along with the explication, and in 
writing on the New Testament, and therein making use 
of passages of the Old, they were given me in like man- 
ner without my seeking anything. I had scarce any 
time for writing but in the night, allowing only one or 
two hours to sleep. The Lord made me write with so 
much purity, that I was obliged to leave off or begin 
again, as He was pleased to order. He proved me 
everyway herein. When I wrote by day, often sud- 
denly interrupted, I left the word unfinished, and He 
afterwards gave me what He pleased. If I gave way 
to reflection I was punished for it, and could not pro- 
ceed. And yet sometimes I was not duly attentive to 
the divine Spirit, thinking I did well to continue when 
I had time, even without feeling His immediate impulse 
or enlightening influence, from whence it is easy to see 
some places clear and consistent, and others which have 
neither taste nor unction ; such is the difference of the 
Spirit of God from the human and natural spirit, 
although they are left just as I wrote them, yet I am 
ready, if ordered, to adjust them according to my pres- 
ent light. Didst Thou not, my God, turn me a hun- 
dred ways, to prove whether I was without any reserve, 
through every kind of trial, or whether I had not yet 
some little interest for myself? My soul became here- 
by readily pliable to every discovery of the divine will, 
and whatever kind of humiliations attended me to 
counterbalance my Lord's favors, till everything, high 
or low, was rendered alike to me. 

I still continued writing with a prodigious swift- 
ness; for the hand could scarcely follow fast enough 
the Spirit which dictated, and through the whole 
progress of so long a work I never altered my manner 



THE MINISTRATIONS OP THE SPIRIT 215 

nor made use of any other book than the Bible itself. 
The transcriber, whatever diligence he used, could not 
copy in five days what I wrote in one night. What- 
ever is good in it comes from God only. Whatever is 
otherwise from myself ; I mean from the mixture which 
I have made, without duly attending to it, of my own 
impurity with His pure and chaste doctrine. In the 
day I had scarcely time to eat, by reason of the vast 
numbers of people which came thronging to me. I 
wrote the Canticles in a day and a half, and received 
several visits besides. 

Here I may add to what I have said about my 
writings, that a considerable part of the book of Judges 
happened by some means to be lost. Being desired to 
render that book complete, I wrote over again the 
places lost. Afterwards when the people were about 
leaving the house, they were found. My former and 
latter explications, on comparison, were found to be 
perfectly conformable to each other, which greatly 
surprised persons of knowledge and merit, who at- 
tested the truth of it. 

There came to me a Counsellor of the parliament, 
a servant of God, who finding on my table a tract on 
prayer, which I had written long before, desired me to 
lend it. Having read it and liked it much, he lent it to 
some friends, to whom he thought it might be of ser- 
vice. Everyone wanted copies of it. He resolved 
therefore to have it printed. The impression was 
begun, and proper approbations given to it. They 
requested me to write a preface, which I did, and thus 
was that little book printed, which has since made so 
much noise, and been the pretence for the several per- 
secutions. The counsellor was one of my intimate 



216 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

friends, and a pattern of piety. The book has already 
passed through five or six editions, and our Lord has 
given a very great benediction to it. Those good friars 
took fifteen hundred of them. The devil became so 
enraged against me on account of the conquest which 
God made by me, that I was assured he was going to 
stir up against me a violent persecution. All that gave 
me no trouble. Let him stir up against me ever so 
strange persecutions ; I know they will all serve to the 
glory of my God. 



XXII. PERILS ON LAND AND SEA. 



A POOR girl of very great simplicity, who earned 
her livelihood by her labor, and was inward- 
ly favored of the Lord, came all sorrowful 
to me and said, "Oh, my mother, what strange things 
have I seen!" I asked what they were. "Alas," said 
she, "I have seen you like a lamb in the midst of a vast 
troop of furious wolves. I have seen a frightful multi- 
tude of people of all ranks and robes, of all ages, sexes 
and conditions, priests, friars, married men, maids and 
wives, with pikes, halberts and drawn swords, all 
eager for your instant destruction. You let them alone 
without stirring, or being surprised and without offer- 
ing any way to defend yourself. I looked on all sides to 
see whether anyone would come to assist and defend 
you; but I saw not one." Some days after, those, who 
through envy, were raising private batteries against 
me, broke forth. Libels began to spread. Envious 
people wrote against me, without knowing me. They 
said I was a sorceress, that it was by a magic power 
I attracted souls, that everything in me was diabolical ; 
that if I did some charities, it was because I coined, 
and put off false money, with many other gross accu- 
sations, equally false, groundless and absurd. 

As the tempest increased every day, some of my 
friends advised me to withdraw, but before I mention 
my leaving Grenoble, I must say something farther of 
my state while here. 

It seemed to me that all our Lord made me do for 
souls, would be in union with Jesus Christ. In this 



218 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

divine union my words had wonderful effect, even the 
formation of Jesus Christ in the souls of others. I was 
in no wise able of myself to say the things I said. He 
who conducted me made me say what He pleased, and 
as long as He pleased. To some I was not permitted to 
speak a word; and to others there flowed forth as it 
were a deluge of grace, and yet this pure love admitted 
not of any superfluity, or a means of empty amuse- 
ment. When questions were asked to which an answer 
were useless, it was not given me. It was the same in 
regard to such as our Lord was pleased to conduct 
through death to themselves, and who came to seek for 
human consolation. I had nothing for them but what 
was purely necessary, and could proceed no farther. I 
could at least only speak of indifferent things, in such 
liberty as God allows, in order to suit everyone, and 
not to be unsociable or disagreeable to any; but for 
His own word, He Himself is the dispenser of it. Oh, if 
preachers were duly careful to speak only in that spirit, 
what fruits would they bring forth in the lives of their 
hearers. 

All that I experienced was shown me in the Holy 
Scripture ; and I saw with admiration that there passed 
nothing within my soul which was not in Jesus Christ 
and in the Holy Scriptures. I must pass over very 
many things in silence, because they cannot be ex- 
pressed ; and if they were expressed could not be under- 
stood or comprehended. 

I often felt much for Father La Combe, who was not 
yet fixed in his state of interior death, but often rose 
and fell into alternatives. I was made sensible that he 
was a vessel of election, whom God had chosen to carry 
His name among the Gentiles, and that he would show 



PERILS ON LAND AND SEA 219 

him how much he must suffer for that name. For my- 
self I may say I had a continual dependence on God in 
every state; my soul was ever willing to obey every 
motion of His Spirit. I thought there could not be 
anything in the world which He could require from 
me, to which I would not give myself up readily and 
with pleasure. I had no interest at all for myself. 
When God requires anything from this wretched noth- 
ing, I find no resistance left in me to do His will, how 
rigorous soever it may appear, my Love, if there is 
a heart in the world of which Thou art the sole and 
absolute Master, mine seems to be one of that sort. 
Thy will, however rigorous, is its life and its pleasure ; 
for it no more subsists but in Thee alone. 

To resume the thread of my story, the Bishop of 
Grenoble's Almoner persuaded me to go for some time 
to Marseilles, to let the storm pass over, telling me that 
I would be well received there, it being his native soil, 
and that many people of merit were there. I wrote to 
Father La Combe for his consent thereto. He readily 
gave it. I might have gone to Verceil, for the Bishop 
of Verceil had written me very obliging letters, earn- 
estly pressed me to come thither, but a human respect, 
and fear of affording a handle to my enemies, gave 
me an extreme aversion thereto. 

Beside the above, the Marchioness of Prunai, who, 
since my departure from her, had been more enlight- 
ened by her own experience, having met with a part of 
the things which I thought would befall her, had con- 
ceived for me a very strong friendship and intimate 
union of spirit, in such a manner that no two sisters 
could be more united than we were. She was extreme- 
ly desirous that I would return to her, as I had for- 



220 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

merly promised her. But I could not resolve upon this, 
lest it should be thought that I had gone after Father 
La Combe. But, my God, how was this relic of self- 
love overturned by the secret ways of Thy adorable 
Providence ! I had yet that exterior support of having 
in my power to say, that I have never gone after him. 
There had been no room given to anybody to accuse 
me of any indirect attachment to him; for when it 
depended on myself not to continue with him, I did 
not do it. The Bishop of Geneva had not failed to 
write against me to Grenoble, as he had done to other 
places. His nephew had gone from house to house to 
cry me down. All this was indifferent to me, and I 
did not cease to do to his diocese all the good in my 
power. I even wrote to him in a respectful manner; 
but his heart was too much closed to yield to any- 
thing. 

Before I left Grenoble, that good girl I have spoken 
of came to me weeping, and told me I was going, and 
that I hid it from her, because I would have nobody 
know it, but that the devil would be before me in all 
the places I should go to ; that I was going to a town, 
where I would scarce be arrived, before he would stir 
up the whole town against me, and would do me all 
the harm he possibly could. What had obliged me to 
conceal my departure, was my fear of being loaded 
with visits and testimonies of friendship from a num- 
ber of good persons, who had a very great affection for 
me. 

I embarked then upon the Rhone, with my cham- 
ber-maid and a young woman of Grenoble, whom the 
Lord had highly favored through my means. The 
Bishop of Grenoble's Almoner also accompanied me, 



PERILS ON LAND AND SEA 221 

with another very worthy ecclesiastic. We met with 
many alarming accidents and wonderful preservations ; 
but those instant dangers, which affrighted others, far 
from alarming me, augmented my peace. The Bishop 
of Grenoble's Almoner was much astonished. He was 
in a desperate fright, when the boat struck against a 
rock, and opened at the stroke; and in his emotion, 
looking attentively at me, he observed that I did not 
change my countenance, or move my eye-brows, 
retaining all my tranquillity. I did not so much as 
feel the first emotions of surprise, which are natural to 
everybody on those occasions, as they depend not on 
ourselves. What caused my peace in such dangers as 
terrify others, was my resignation to God, and because 
death is much more agreeable to me than life, if such 
were His will, to which I desire to be ever patiently 
submissive. 

In the short time of my stay at Marseilles, I was 
instrumental in supporting some good souls, and among 
others an ecclesiastic, who till then was unacquainted 
with me. After having finished his thanksgiving in the 
Church, seeing me go out, he followed me into the 
house in which I lodged. Then he told me the Lord 
had inspired him to address me, and to open his inward 
state to me. He did it with as much simplicity as 
humility, and the Lord gave him through me all that 
was necessary for him, from whence he was filled with 
joy, and thankful acknowledgments to God. Although 
there were many spiritual persons there, and even of 
his intimate friends, he never had been moved to open 
his mind to any of them. He was a servant of God, 
and favored by Him with a singular gift of prayer. 
During the eight days I was at Marseilles, I saw many 



222 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

good souls there ; for, through all my persecutions, our 
Lord always struck some good stroke of His own right 
hand, and that good ecclesiastic was delivered from an 
anxiety of mind, which had afflicted him for some 
years past. 

After I had left Grenoble, those who hated me 
without knowing me, spread libels against me. A 
woman for whom I had a great love, and whom I had 
even extricated from an engagement which she had 
continued in for several years, and contributed to her 
discarding the person to whom she had been attached, 
suffered her mind to resume its fondness for that per- 
nicious engagement, and became violently enraged 
against me for having broken it off. Although I had 
freely been at some expense to procure her freedom 
from it, still she went to the Bishop of Grenoble to 
tell him that I had counselled her to do an act of 
injustice. She then went from confessor to confessor, 
repeating the same story, to animate them against me. 
As they were too susceptible of the prejudices infused, 
the fire was soon kindled in all quarters. There were 
none but those who knew me, and who loved God, that 
took my part. They became more closely united to 
me in sympathy through my persecution. It would 
have been very easy for me to destroy the calumny, as 
well with the Bishop of Grenoble as in town. I needed 
only to tell who the person was, and show the fruits of 
her disorder, but as I could not declare the guilty per- 
son, without making known at the same time the other 
who had been her accomplice, who now, being touched 
of God, was very penitent, I thought it best for me to 
suffer and be silent. There was a very pious man who 
knew all her history, from the beginning to the end of 



PERILS ON LAND AND SEA 223 

it, who wrote to her, that if she did not retract her lies, 
he would publish the account of her wicked life, to 
make known both her gross iniquity and my innocence. 
She continued some time in her malice, writing that I 
was a sorceress, with many other falsehoods. Never- 
theless, some time after, she had such a cruel remorse 
of conscience on this account, that she wrote both to 
the bishop and others to retract what she had said. 
She induced one to write to me, to inform me that she 
was in despair for what she had done; that God had 
punished her in such a manner, that she had never felt 
anything like it. After these recantations the outcry 
abated, the bishop was disabused, and since that time 
he has testified a great regard for me. This creature 
had, among other things, said that I caused myself to 
be worshipped ; and other unparalleled follies. As she 
had formerly been insane, I think in what she did to 
me there was more of weakness than of malice. 

From Marseilles I knew not how or whither I should 
turn next. I saw no likelihood either of staying or of 
returning to Grenoble, where I had left my daughter 
in a convent. On the other side, Father La Combe had 
written to me that he did not think I ought to go to 
Paris. I even felt a strong repugnance to the idea of 
going thither, which made me think it was not yet the 
time for it. One morning I felt myself inwardly pressed 
to go somewhere. I took a litter to go to see the Mar- 
chioness of Prunai, which was, I thought, the most 
honorable refuge for me in my present condition. ' I 
thought I might pass through Nice on my way to her 
habitation, as some had assured me I might. But 
when I arrived at Nice I was greatly surprised to learn 
that the litter could not pass the mountain to go 



224 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

thither. I knew not what to do, nor which way to 
turn, being here alone, forsaken of everybody, and not 
knowing what God required of me. My confusion and 
crosses seemed daily to increase. I saw myself, without 
refuge or retreat, wandering as a vagabond. All the 
tradesmen whom I saw in their shops appeared to me 
happy in having a dwelling place of their own to retire 
to. Nothing in the world seemed harder than this 
wandering life to me, who naturally loved propriety 
and decorum. As I was in this uncertainty, not know- 
ing what course to take, one came to tell me that next 
day a sloop would set off, which used to go in one day 
to Genoa, and that if I chose it, they would land me 
at Savona, from whence I might get myself carried to 
the Marchioness of Prunai's house. To that I con- 
sented, as I could not be supplied with any other way 
of getting thither. 

I had some joy at embarking on the sea. I said in 
myself, "If I am the dregs of the earth, the scorn and 
offscouring of nature, I am now going to embark on the 
element which above all others is the most treacherous ; 
If it be the Lord's pleasure to plunge me in the waves, 
it shall be mine to perish in them." There came a 
tempest in a place pretty dangerous for a small boat, 
and the mariners were some of the wickedest. The 
irritation of the waves gave a satisfaction to my mind. 
I pleased myself in thinking that these mutinous bil- 
lows might probably supply me with a grave. Perhaps 
I carried the point too far in the pleasure I took, at 
seeing myself beaten and bandied by the swelling 
waters. Those who were with me, took notice of my 
intrepidity, but knew not the cause of it. I asked of 
Thee, my Love, some little hole of a rock to be placed 



PERILS ON LAND AND SEA 225 

in, here to live separate from all creatures. I figured 
to myself, that some uninhabited island would have 
terminated all my disgraces, and put me in a condition 
of infallibly doing Thy will. But, my divine Love, 
Thou designedst me a prison far different from that of 
the rock, and quite another banishment than that of 
the uninhabited island. Thou reservest me to be bat- 
tered by the billoWs, more irritated than those of the 
sea. Calumnies proved to be the unrelenting waves, to 
which I was to be exposed, in order to be lashed and 
tossed by them without mercy. By the tempest swell- 
ing against us we were kept back, and instead of a 
short day's passage to Genoa, we were eleven days in 
making it. How peaceable was my heart in so violent 
an agitation ! The swelling of the sea, and the fury of 
its waves were as I thought, only a figure of that swell- 
ing fury which all the creatures had against me. I 
said to Thee, my Love, "Arm them all to avenge 
Thyself on me for my infidelities, and for those of all 
the creatures/ ' I saw Thy right hand armed against 
me ; and I loved more than my life the strokes it gave 
me. We could not land at Savona. We were obliged to 
go on to Genoa. We arrived there in the beginning of 
the week before Easter. 

While I was there I was obliged to bear the insults 
of the inhabitants, caused by the resentment they had 
against the French, for the havoc of a late bombard- 
ment. The Doge was newly gone out of the city, and 
had carried off with him all the litters. Wherefore I 
could not get one, and was obliged to stay several days 
at excessive expenses, for the people there demanded 
of us exhorbitant sums, and as much for every single 
person as they would have asked for a company at the 



226 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

best eating-house in Paris. I had little money left, but 
my store in Providence could not be exhausted. I 
begged with the greatest earnestness for a litter at any 
price, to pass the feast of Easter at the Marchioness of 
Prunai's house. It was then within three days of 
Easter, and I could scarce any way get myself to be 
understood. By the force of entreaty, they brought 
me at length a sorry litter with lame mules, and told 
me that they would take me readily to Verceil, which 
was only two days' journey, but demanded an enor- 
mous sum for it ; they would not engage to take me to 
the Marchioness of Prunai's house, as they knew not 
where her estate lay. This was to me a strong mortifi- 
cation, for I was very unwilling to go to Verceil ; never- 
theless the proximity of Easter, and want of money, in 
a country where they used every kind of extortion and 
tyranny, left me no choice, I was under an absolute 
necessity of submitting to be thus conveyed to Verceil. 

Thus Providence led me whither I would not. Our 
muleteer was one of the most brutal men to be met 
with, and for an increase of my affliction, I had sent 
away to Verceil the ecclesiastic who accompanied us, 
to prevent their surprise at seeing me there, after I had 
protested against going thither. That ecclesiastic was 
very coarsely treated on the road, through the hatred 
they bore to the French ; and they made him go part 
of the way on foot, so that, though he set off the day 
before me, he arrived there only a few hours sooner 
than I did. And as for the fellow who conducted us, 
seeing he had only women under his care, he used us 
in the most insolent and boorish manner. 

We passed through a wood infested with robbers. 
The muleteer was afraid, and told us that if we met 



PERILS ON LAND AND SEA 227 

any of them on the road we should be murdered, for 
they spared nobody. Scarcely had he uttered these 
words, when there appeared four men well armed. 
They immediately stopped the litter. The man was 
exceedingly frightened. I made a light bow of my head 
with a smile, for I had no fear, and was so entirely 
resigned to Providence that it was all one to die this 
way or any other; in the sea, or by the hands of rob- 
bers. But, my God, how wonderful at this, as at 
many other times, was Thy protection over me! How 
many perils have I passed through upon mountains, 
and on the very edges of tremendous steep rocks! 
How often hast Thou checked the foot of the mule 
already slipping over the precipice ! How often have I 
been like to be thrown headlong from those frightful 
heights, into hideous torrents which, though rolling in 
chasms far below our shrinking sight, forced us to hear 
them by their horrible noise. When the dangers were 
most manifest, then was my faith the strongest, as well 
as my intrepidity, being unable to wish for anything 
else than what should fall out, whether to be dashed 
against the rocks, drowned, or killed in any other way ; 
everything in the will of God being equal to me. The 
people who used to convey or attend me said they 
had never seen a courage like mine for the most 
alarming dangers, and the time when death appeared 
the most certain, were those which seemed to please 
me the most. Was it not Thy pleasure, my God, 
which guarded me in every imminent danger, and held 
me back from rolling down the precipice, on the instant 
of sliding over its dizzy brow? The more easy I was 
about life, which I bore only because Thou wast pleased 
to bear it, the more care Thou tookest to preserve it. 



228 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

There seemed a mutual emulation between us, on my 
part to resign it, and on Thine to maintain it. The rob- 
bers then advanced to the litter, but I had no sooner 
saluted them than God made them change their design. 
Having pushed off one another, as it were, to hinder 
each of them from doing any harm, they respectfully 
saluted me, and, w T ith an air of compassion unusual to 
such sort of persons, retired. I was immediately 
struck to the heart, my Love, with a full and clear 
conviction that it was a stroke of Thy right hand, who 
had other designs over me than to suffer me to die by 
the hand of robbers. It is Thy sovereign power which 
takes away their all from Thy devoted lovers; and 
destroys their lives with all that is of self without 
pity or sparing anything. 

The muleteer, seeing me attended only with two 
young women, thought he might treat me as he would, 
perhaps expecting to draw money from me. Instead 
of taking me to the inn, he brought me to a mill, in 
which there was not one woman. There was but one 
single chamber with several beds in it, in which the 
millers and muleteers lay together. In that chamber 
they forced me to stay. I told the muleteer I was not 
a person to lie in such a place as he had brought me 
to and wanted to oblige him to take me to the inn, 
but nothing of it would he do. I was constrained to go 
out on foot at ten o'clock at night, carrying a part 
of my clothes, and to go a good way more than a. quar- 
ter of a league in the dark, in a strange place, not- 
knowing the way, crossing one end of the wood infested 
with robbers, to endeavor to get to the inn. That fel- 
low, seeing us go off from the place where he had 
wanted to make me lodge, with a bad design, hooted 



PERILS ON LAND AND SEA 229 

after us in a very abusive manner. I bore my humilia- 
tion cheerfully, but not without feeling it. But the 
will of God and my resignation to it rendered every- 
thing easy to me. We were well received at the inn, 
and the good people there did the best in their power 
for our recovery from the fatigue we had undergone. 
They assured us the place we had left was very dan- 
gerous. Next morning we were obliged to return on 
foot to the litter, for that man would not bring it to us. 
On the contrary he fell on us with a shower of fresh 
insults. And to consummate his base behavior, he 
sold me to the post, whereby I was forced to go the 
rest of the way in a post-chaise instead of a litter. 

In this equipage I arrived at Alexandria, a frontier 
town, subject to Spain, on the side of the Milanese. 
Our driver took us, according to their custom, to the 
post-house. I was exceedingly astonished when I saw 
the landlady coming out not to receive him, but to 
oppose his entrance. She had heard there were 
women in the* chaise, and taking us for a different sort 
of women from what we were, she protested against 
our coming in. On the other hand, the driver was 
determined to force his entrance in spite of her. Their 
dispute rose to such a height, that a great number of 
the officers of the garrison, with a vast mob, gathered 
at the noise, who were surprised at the odd humor of 
the woman in refusing to lodge us. With earnestness 
I entreated the post to take us to some other house, 
but he would not, so obstinately was he bent on carry* 
ing his point. He assured the landlady we were per- 
sons of honor and piety, too, the marks whereof he had 
seen. At last, by force of pressing entreaties, he obliged 
her to come to see us. As soon as she had looked at 



230 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

us, she acted as the robbers had done; she relented at 
once and admitted us. 

No sooner had I alighted from the chaise than she 
said to us, "Go shut yourselves up in that chamber 
hard by, and do not stir, that my son may not know 
you are here; for as soon as he knows it he will kill 
you." She said it with so much force, as did also the 
servant maid, that, if death had not so many charms 
for me, I should have been ready to die with fear. 
The two poor girls with me were under frightful appre- 
hensions. When any stirred or came to open the door, 
they thought they were coming to kill them. In short, 
they continued in a dreadful suspense between life and 
death till next day, when we learned that the young 
man had sworn to kill any woman who lodged at the 
house, because a few days before, an event had fallen 
out, which had like to have ruined him ; a woman of a 
bad life, having there privately murdered a man in 
some esteem, that had cost the house a heavy fine, and 
he was afraid of any more such persons coming, and 
not without reason. 






XXIII. BURSTING OF THE STORM. 



AFTER such adventures and others, I arrived 
at Verceil. I went to the inn, where I was 
very badly received. I sent for Father La 
Combe, who I thought had been already apprised of 
my coming thither by the ecclesiastic whom I had sent 
before, and who would be of so much service to me. 
This ecclesiastic was only a little while arrived. How 
much better on the road should I have fared if I had 
had him with me ! For in that country they look upon 
ladies, accompanied with ecclesiastics, with veneration, 
as persons of honor and piety. Father La Combe came 
in a strange fret at my arrival, God so permitting it. 
He could not hide it from me. He said that every one 
would think I was come after him, and that would 
injure his reputation, which I found in that country 
was very high. I had no less pain to go thither. It 
was necessity only which had obliged me to submit to 
such a disagreeable task. The father received me with 
coolness, and in such a manner as let me sufficiently see 
his sentiments, and indeed redoubled my pain. I asked 
him if he required me to return, adding that if he did, 
I would go off that moment, however oppressed and 
spent, both with fatigues and fastings. He replied he 
did not know how the Bishop of Verceil would take my 
arrival, after he had given over all his expectations of 
it, and after I had so long and so obstinately refused 
the obliging offers he had made me, since which he no 
longer expressed any desire to see me. 

It seemed to me then as if I were rejected from the 
face of the earth, without being able to find any refuge 



232 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

in it, and as if all creatures were combined to crush ine. 
I passed that night without sleep, not knowing what 
course I should be obliged to take, being persecuted by 
my enemies, and a subject of disgrace to my friends. 

When it was known at the inn, that I was one of 
Father La Combe's acquaintances, they treated me with 
the greatest respect and kindness, for they esteemed 
him as a saint. The father knew not how to tell the 
bishop of my arrival, and I felt his pain more than my 
own. As soon as that Prelate knew that I was arrived, 
he sent his niece, who took me in her coach, and carried 
me to her house; but those things were only done out 
of ceremony, and the bishop, not having seen me yet, 
knew not what to think of a journey so very unex- 
pected, after I had thrice refused, though he sent 
expresses on purpose to bring me to him. He was out 
of humor with me. Nevertheless, as he was informed 
that my design was not to stay at Verceil, but to go to 
the Marchioness of Prunai's house, he gave orders for 
me to be well treated. He could not see me till Easter 
Sunday was over, for he officiated all the eve and all 
that day. After it was all over he came in a chaise to 
his niece's house to see me, and though he understood 
French hardly any better than I did Italian, he was 
very well satisfied with the conversation he had with 
me. He appeared to have as much favor for me as he 
had of indifference before. The second visit gained 
him entirely. 

He conceived as strong a friendship for me as if I 
had been his sister, and his only pleasure, amidst his 
continual occupations, was to come and pass half an 
hour with me in speaking of God. He now seemed to 
think alone of finding out means to detain me in his 



BURSTING OF THE STORM 233 

diocese. He would not hear of my going to see the 
Marchioness of Prunai. On the contrary, he wrote to 
her to come and settle with me in his diocese. He sent 
Father La Combe to her, on purpose to exhort her to 
come, assuring her that he would unite us all to make 
a congregation. The Marchioness entered into it read- 
ily, and so did her daughter. They would have come 
with Father La Combe but that the Marchioness was 
sick. The bishop was active and earnest in collecting 
and establishing a society for us, and found several 
pious persons and some very devout young ladies, who 
were all ready to come to join us. But it was not the 
will of God to fix me thus, but to crucify me yet more. 
The fatigue of travelling made me fall sick. The 
girl also whom I brought from Grenoble fell sick. Her 
relations, who were a covetous set of people, took it in 
their heads that, if she should die in my service, I 
would get her to make a will in my favor. They were 
much mistaken for, far from desiring the property of 
others, I had given up my own. Her brother, full of 
this apprehension, came with all speed, and the first 
thing he spoke to her about, although he found her 
recovered, was to make a will. That made a great 
noise in Verceil, for he wanted her to return with him, 
but she refused. I advised her to do what her brother 
desired her. He contracted a friendship with some of 
the officers of the garrison, whom he told that I wanted 
to use his sister badly. He pretended she was a person 
of quality, while she was only of a low birth. They 
gave out what I was still afraid of, viz., that I was 
come after Father La Combe. They even persecuted 
him on my account. The bishop was much troubled 
at it, but could not remedy it. The friendship he had 






234 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

for me increased every day, because as he loved God, so 
he did all those whom he thought desired to love Him. 
As he saw me so much indisposed, he came to see me 
with assiduity and charity, when at leisure from his 
occupations. He made me little presents of fruit and 
other things of that nature. His relations were jealous 
of it, saying I was come to ruin him, and to carry off 
his money into France, which was a thing the farthest 
from my thoughts. The bishop patiently bore these af- 
fronts, hoping still to keep me in his diocese, when I 
should be recovered. In that place everything was 
mixed with crosses, but souls were gained to God. The 
Rector of the Jesuits took his time, when Father La 
Combe was gone out of town, to prove me, as he said. 
He had studied theological matters, which I did not un- 
derstand. He propounded to me several questions. 
The Lord inspired me to answer him in such a man- 
ner that he went away both surprised and satisfied. 
He could not forbear speaking of it. 

The Barnabites of Paris, or rather Father de la 
Mothe, took it in head to try to draw Father La Combe 
from thence to go and preach at Paris. He wrote to 
the Father-general about it, saying they had no one 
at Paris to support their house, that their Church was 
deserted; that it was a pity to have such a man as 
Father La Combe in a place where he only corrupted 
his language; that it was necessary to make his fine 
talents appear at Paris, where he himself could not 
bear the burden of the house, if they did not give him 
an assistant of such qualifications and experience. 
Who would not have thought all this to be sincere? 
The Bishop of Verceil, who was very much a friend to 
the Father-general, having advice thereof, opposed it, 



BURSTING OF THE STORM 235 

and answered him that it would be doing him the 
greatest injury to take from him a man who was so 
exceedingly useful to him, and at a time when he had 
the greatest need of him. 

The Father-general of the Barnabites would not 
agree to the request of Father de la Mothe, for fear of 
offending the Bishop of Verceil. As to me, my indis- 
position increased. The air, which is there extremely 
bad, caused me a continual cough, with frequent re- 
turns of fever. I grew so much worse that it was 
thought I could not get over it. The Bishop was much 
afflicted to see it, but having consulted the physicians, 
they assured him that the air of the place was mortal 
to me, whereupon he said to me with many tears, "I 
had rather have you live, though distant from me, than 
see you die here." He gave up his design of establish- 
ing his congregation, for my friend would not settle 
there without me, and the Genoese lady could not 
easily leave her own city, where she was respected. 
When the Bishop had first proposed this affair, how- 
ever agreeable it appeared, I had a presentiment that 
it would not succeed, and that it was not what our Lord 
required of me, though I submissively yielded to the 
good proposal, were it only to acknowledge the many 
special favors of this prelate, being assured that the 
Lord would know well how to prevent what He should 
now require of me. 

Here it was that I wrote upon the Apocalypse, and 
that there was given me a greater certainty of all the 
persecutions of the most faithful servants of God, ac- 
cording to what I wrote thereof, in respect to future 
times. 



236 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

The Bishop of Verceil's friend, the Father-general 
of the Barnabites, departed this life. As soon as he 
was dead, Father La Mothe wrote to the Vicar-general 
who now held his place till another should be elected, 
renewing his request to have Father La Combe as an 
assistant. The father, hearing that I was obliged on 
account of my indisposition to return into France, sent 
an order to Father La Combe to return to Paris, and 
to accompany me in my journey thither, as his doing 
that would exempt their house at Paris, already poor, 
from the expenses of so long a journey. On the 
receipt hereof, Father La Combe, who did not pene- 
trate the poison under this fair outside, consented 
thereto, knowing it was my custom to have some eccle- 
siastic with me in travelling. Father La Combe went 
off twelve days before me, in order to transact some 
business, and to wait for me at the passage over the 
mountains, as the place where I had most need of an 
escort. I set off in Lent, the weather then being very 
fine. It was a sorrowful parting to the Bishop. I pitied 
him; he was so much affected at losing both Father 
La Combe and me. He caused me to be attended, at 
his own expense, as far as Turin, giving me a gentle- 
man and one of his ecclesiastics to accompany me. 

As soon as the resolution was taken that Father La 
Combe should accompany me, Father La Mothe re- 
ported everywhere that he had been obliged to do it, 
to make him return into France. He expatiated on 
the attachment I had for Father La Combe, pretending 
to pity me for it. Upon this everyone said that I 
ought to put myself under the direction of Father La 
Mothe. In the meantime he deceitfully palliated the 
malignity of his heart, writing letters full of esteem to 



BURSTING OF THE STORM 237 

Father La Combe, and some to me of tenderness, 
desiring him to bring his dear sister, and to serve her 
in her infirmities, and in the hardships of so long a 
journey; that he should be sensibly obliged to him for 
his care, with many other things of like nature. 

I could not resolve to depart without going to see 
my good friend, the Marchioness of Prunai, notwith- 
standing the difficulty of the roads. I caused myself 
to be carried thither, it being scarcely possible to go 
otherwise on account of the mountains. She was ex- 
tremely joyful at seeing me arrive, and acknowledged 
that all I had told her had come to pass ; and a good 
ecclesiastic, who lives with her, told me the same. 

As soon as it was determined that I should come 
into France, the Lord made known to me that it was 
to have greater crosses than I ever yet had. Father 
La Combe had the like sense. He encouraged me to 
resign myself to the divine will, and to become a vic- 
tim offered freely to new sacrifices. He also wrote to 
me, "Will it not be a thing very glorious to God, if He 
should make us serve in that great city, for a spectacle 
to angels and to men?" I set off then with a spirit of 
sacrifice to offer myself up to new kinds of punish- 
ments, if pleasing to my dear Lord. All along the 
road something within me repeated the very words of 
St. Paul. "I go bound in the spirit unto Jerusalem, 
not knowing the things which should befall me there, 
save that the Holy Ghost witnesseth, saying, that bonds 
and afflictions abide me. But none of these things 
move me ; neither count I my life dear unto myself, so 
that I might finish my course with joy." (Acts xx. 22, 
23, 24. I could not forbear to testify it to my most 
intimate friends, who tried hard to prevail on me 



238 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

to stop, and not to proceed any further. They were 
all willing to contribute a share of what they had, for 
my settlement there, and to prevent my coming to 
Paris. But I found it my duty to hold on my way, 
and to sacrifice myself for Him who first sacrificed 
Himself for me. 

At Chamberry we saw Father La Mothe, who was 
going to the election of a Father-general. Though he 
affected an appearance of friendship, it was not diffi- 
cult to discover that his thoughts were different from 
his words, and that he had conceived dark designs 
against us. I speak not of his intentions, but to obey 
the command given me to omit nothing. I shall neces- 
sarily be obliged often to speak of him. I could wish 
with all my heart it were in my power to suppress what 
I have to say of him. If what he has done respected 
only myself, I would willingly bury all; but I think I 
owe it to truth, and to the innocence of Father La 
Combe, so cruelly oppressed, and grievously crushed 
so long, by wicked calumnies, by an imprisonment of 
several years, which in all probability will last as long 
as life. Though Father La Mothe may appear heavily 
charged in what I say of him, I protest solemnly, and 
in the presence of God, that I pass over in silence many 
of his bad actions. 

Scarcely had I arrived in Paris when I readily dis- 
covered the black designs entertained against both 
Father La Combe and me. Father La Mothe, who 
conducted the whole tragedy, artfully dissembled, 
according to his custom; flattering me to my face, 
while he was aiming the keenest wounds behind my 
back. He and his confederates wanted, for their own 
interest, to persuade me to go to Montargis (my native 



BURSTING OF THE STORM 239 

place), hoping, thereby, to get the guardianship of my 
children, and to dispose of both my person and effects. 
All the persecutions from Father La Mothe and my 
family have been attended on their part with views of 
interest; and those against Father La Combe have 
sprung from rage and revenge, because he, as my 
director, did not oblige me to do what they wanted, 
as well as out of jealousy. They threatened to deprive 
me of w T hat little I had reserved to myself. To this I 
only replied that I would not go to law, that if they 
were resolved to take from me the little I had left 
(little indeed in comparison of what I had given up) 
I would surrender it entirely to them ; being quite free 
and willing not only to be poor, but to be even in the 
very extremity of want in imitation of our Lord Jesus 
Christ. 

I arrived at Paris on Magdalene's eve, 1686, exactly 
five years after my departure from that city. After 
Father La Combe arrived, he was soon followed and 
much applauded. I perceived some jealousy in Father 
La Mothe hereupon, but did not think that matters 
would be carried so far as they have been. The 
greater part of the Barnabites of Paris, and its neigh- 
borhood joined against Father La Combe, induced 
thereto from several causes that particularly related to 
their order. But all their calumnies and evil attempts 
were overthrown by the unaffected piety he mani- 
fested, and the good which multitudes reaped from his 
labors. 

A very wicked man who was employed for that pur- 
pose, wrote defamatory libels, declaring that the prop- 
ositions of Molinos, which had been current for two 
years past in France, were the sentiments of Father 






240 LIFB OF MADAM GUYON 

La Combe. These libels were spread about in the com- 
munity. Father La Mothe and the provincial, acting 
as persons well affected to the Church, carried them to 
the official, or judge of the ecclesiastical Court, who 
joined in the dark design. They showed them to the 
Archbishop saying it was out of their zeal and that 
they were exceedingly sorry that one of their fraternity 
was an heretic, and as such execrable. They also 
brought me in, but more moderately, saying Father 
La Combe was almost always at my house, which was 
very false, for I could scarcely see him at all except at 
the confessional, and then for a very short time. Sev- 
eral other things equally false they liberally gave out 
concerning both of us. 

They bethought themselves of one thing further 
likely to favor their scheme. They knew I had been 
at Marseilles, and thought they had a good foundation 
for a fresh calumny. They counterfeited a letter from 
a person at Marseilles (I heard it was from the Bishop) 
addressed to the Archbishop of Paris, or to his official, 
in which they wrote the most abominable scandal. 
Father La Mothe came to try to draw me into his 
snare, and to make me say, in the presence of the peo- 
ple whom he had brought, that I had been at Marseilles 
with Father La Combe. " There are," said he, "shock- 
ing accounts against you, sent by the Bishop of Mar- 
seilles. You have there fallen into great scandal with 
Father La Combe. There are good witnesses of it." 
I replied with a smile, "The calumny is well devised; 
but it would have been proper to know first whether 
Father La Combe had been at Marseilles, for I do not 
believe he was ever there in his life. While I was 
there, Father La Combe was laboring at Verceil." He 



BURSTING OF THE STORM 241 

was confounded and went off, saying, "There are wit- 
nesses of its being true." He went immediately to ask 
Father La Combe if he had not been at Marseilles. He 
assured him he had never been there. They were 
struck with disappointment. They then gave out that 
it was not Marseilles but Seisel. Now this Seisel is a 
place I have never been at, and there is no bishop 
there. 

Every imaginable device was used to terrify me by 
threats, forged letters, and by memorials drawn up 
against m ( e, accusing me of teaching erroneous doc- 
trines, and of living a bad life and urging me to flee 
the country to escape the consequences of exposure; 
but failing in all these, at length La Mothe took off the 
mask and said to me in the church, before La Combe, 
"It is now, my sister that you must think of fleeing, you 
are charged with crimes of a deep dye." I was 
not moved in the least, but replied with my usual tran- 
quillity. "If I am guilty of such crimes, I cannot be too 
severely punished ; whereupon I will not flee or go out 
of the way. I have made an open profession of dedi- 
cating myself to God entirely, and if I have done 
things offensive to Him, whom I would wish both to 
love, and to cause to be loved by the whole world, 
even at the expense of my life, I ought by my punish- 
ment to be made an example to the whole world; but if 
I am innocent, for me to flee is not the way for my 
innocence to be believed.' ' 

Similar attempts were made to ruin Father La 
Combe. He was grossly misrepresented to the king, 
and an order presented for his arrest and imprisonment 
in the Bastile. 

Although on his trial he appeared quite innocent, 
and they could not find anything whereupon to ground 



242 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

a condemnation, yet they made the king believe he was 
a dangerous man in the article of religion. He was 
then shut up in a certain fortress of the Bastile for life ; 
but as his enemies heard that the captain in that for- 
tress esteemed him, and treated him kindly, they had 
him removed into a much worse place. God, who 
beholds everything, will reward every man according 
to his works. I know by an interior communication 
that he is very well content, and fully resigned to God. 
La Mothe now endeavored more than ever to induce 
me to flee, assuring me that if I went to Montargis, I 
should be out of all trouble, but that if I did not, I 
should pay for it. He insisted on my taking himself 
for my director, which I could not agree to. He decried 
me wherever he went, and wrote to his brethren to do 
the same. They sent me very abusive letters, assuring 
me that if I did not put myself under his direction, I 
was undone. I have the letters by me still. One 
father desired me in this case to make a virtue of 
necessity. Nay, some advised me to pretend to put 
myself under his direction, and to deceive him, where- 
as I abhorred the thought of deceit. I bore everything 
with the greatest tranquillity, without taking any care 
to justify or defend myself, leaving it entirely to God 
to order as He should please about me. Herein He was 
graciously pleased to increase the peace of my soul, 
while everyone seemed to cry against me, and to look 
on me as an infamous creature, except those few who 
know me well by a near union of spirit. At Church I 
heard people behind me exclaim against me, and even 
some priests say it was necessary to cast me out of 
the Church. I left myself to God without reserve, 



BURSTING OF THE STORM 243 

being quite ready to endure the most rigorous pains 
and tortures, if such were His will. 

I never made any solicitation, either for Father La 
Combe or myself, though charged with that among 
other things. Willing to owe everything to God, I 
have no dependence on any creature. I would not 
have it said that any but God had made Abraham rich, 
Gen. xiv. 23. To lose all for Him is my best gain; and 
to gain all without Him would be my worst loss. 
Although at this time so general an outcry was raised 
against me, God did not fail to make use of me to gain 
many souls to Himself. The more persecution raged 
against me the more children were given me, on whom 
the Lord conferred great favors through His hand- 
maid. 

One must not judge of the servants of God by what 
their enemies say of them, nor by their being oppressed 
under calumnies without any resource. Jesus Christ 
expired under pangs. God uses the like conduct 
toward His dearest servants, to render them conform- 
able to His Son, in whom He is always well pleased. 
But few place that conformity where it ought to be. 
It is not in voluntary pains or austerities, but in those 
which are suffered in a submission ever equal to the 
will of God, in a renunciation of our whole selves, to 
the end that God may be our all in all, conducting us 
according to His views, and not our own, which are 
generally opposite to his. In fine, all perfection con- 
sists in this entire conformity with Jesus Christ, not in 
things which men esteem. It will only be seen in eter- 
nity who are the true friends of God. Nothing pleases 
Him but Jesus Christ, and that which bears His mark 
or character. 



244 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

They were continually pressing me to flee, though 
the Archbishop had spoken to me, and bidden me 
not to leave Paris. But they wanted to give the 
appearance of criminality both to me and to Father La 
Combe by my flight. They knew not how to make me 
fall into the hands of the official. If they accused me 
of crimes, it must be before other judges, and any 
other judge would have seen my innocence; and the 
false witnesses would have run the risk of suffering for 
it. They continually spread stories of horrible crimes ; 
but the official assured me that he had heard no men- 
tion of any, for he was afraid lest I should retire out 
of his jurisdiction. They then made the king believe 
that I was an heretic ; that I carried on a literary cor- 
respondence with Molinos (I, who never knew there 
was a Molinos in the world, till the Gazette had told me 
of it) that I had written a dangerous book; and that 
on those accounts it would be necessary to issue an 
order to put me in a convent, that they might examine 
me; that as I was a dangerous person it would be 
proper for me to be locked up, to be allowed no com- 
merce with any one; since I continually held assem- 
blies, which was very false. To support this calumny 
my hand-writing was counterfeited, and a letter was 
forged as from me, importing that I had great 
designs, but feared that they would prove abortive, 
through the imprisonment of Father La Combe, for 
which reason I had left off holding assemblies at my 
house, being too closely watched, but that I would 
hold them at the houses of other persons. This forged 
letter they showed the king, and upon it an order was 
given for my imprisonment. 



BURSTING OF THE STORM 245 

This order would have been put in execution two 
months sooner than it was, had I not fallen very sick. 
I had inconceivable pains and a fever. Some thought 
that I had a gathering in my head. The pain I suf- 
fered for five weeks made me delirious. I had also a 
pain in my breast and a violent cough. Twice I re- 
ceived the holy sacrament, as I was thought to be ex- 
piring. One of my friends had acquainted Father La 
Mothe (not knowing him to have had any hand in F. 
La Combe's imprisonment) that she had sent me a cer- 
tificate from the inquisition in Father La Combe's 
favor, having heard that his ow r n was lost. This an- 
swered a very good purpose, for they had made the 
king believe that he had run away from the inquisi- 
tion; but this showed the contrary. 

Father La Mothe then came to me, when I was in 
excessive pain, counterfeiting all the affection and ten- 
derness in his power, and telling me that the affair of 
Father La Combe was going on very well, that he was 
just ready to come out of prison with honor, that he 
was very glad of it ; that if he had only this certificate, 
he would soon be delivered. "Give me it then," said 
he, "and he will be immediately released." At first I 
made a difficulty of doing it. "What!" said he, "will 
you be the cause of ruining poor Father La Combe, hav- 
ing it in your power to save him, and cause us that af- 
fliction, for want of what you have in your hands." I 
yielded, ordering it to be brought and given him. But 
he suppressed it, and gave out that it was lost. It 
never could be got from him again. The Ambassador 
from the Court of Turin sent a messenger to me for this 
certificate, designing the proper use of it to serve 
Father La Combe. I referred him to Father La Mothe. 



246 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

The messenger went to him and asked him for it. He 
denied I had given it to him, saying, "Her brain is 
disordered which makes her imagine it." The man 
came back to me and told me his answer. The per- 
sons in my chamber bore witness that I had given it to 
him. Yet all signified nothing ; it could not be got out 
of his hands, but on the contrary, he insulted me, and 
caused others also to do it, though I was so weak that 
I seemed to be at the very gates of death. 

They told me they only waited for my recovery to 
cast me into prison. He made his brethren believe 
that I had treated him ill. They wrote to me that 
it was for my crimes that I suffered, and that I should 
put myself under the conduct of Father La Mothe, 
otherwise I should repent it ; that I was mad and ought 
to be bound and was a monster of pride, since I would 
not suffer myself to be conducted by Father La Mothe. 
Such was my daily feast in the extremity of my pain ; 
deserted of my friends, and oppressed by my enemies; 
the former being ashamed of me, through the calum- 
nies which were forged and industriously spread; the 
latter let loose to persecute me ; under all which I kept 
silence, leaving myself to the Lord. 

There was not any kind of infamy, error, sorcery, or 
sacrilege, of which they did not accuse me. As soon 
as I was able to be carried to the Church in a chair, I 
was told I must speak to the prebend. (It was a snare 
concerted between Father La Mothe and the Canon at 
whose house I lodged.) I spoke to him with much 
simplicity and he approved of what I said. Yet, two 
days after they gave out that I had uttered many 
things, and accused many persons; and from hence 
they procured the banishment of sundry persons with 






BURSTING OF THE STORM 247 

whom they were displeased, persons whom I had never 
seen or heard of. They were men of honor. One of 
them was banished, because he said my little book was 
a good one. It is remarkable that they say nothing 
to those who prefixed their approbations, and that, far 
from condemning the book, it has been reprinted since 
I have been in prison, and advertisements of it have 
been posted up at the Archbishop's palace, and all over 
Paris. In regard to others, when they find faults in 
their books, they condemn the books and leave the 
person at liberty ; but as for me, my book is approved, 
sold and spread, while I am kept a prisoner for it. 

The same day that those gentlemen were banished, 
I received a lettre de cachet, or sealed order to repair 
to the Convent of the Visitation of St. Mary's, in a 
suburb of St. Antoine. I received it with a tranquillity 
which surprised the bearer exceedingly. He could not 
forbear expressing it, having seen the extreme sorrow 
of those who were only banished. He was so touched 
with it as to shed tears. And although his order was 
to carry me off directly, he was not afraid to trust me, 
but left me all the day, desiring me to repair to St. 
Mary's in the evening. On that day many of my 
friends came to see me, and found me very cheerful, 
which surprised such of them as knew my case. I could 
not stand, I was so weak, having the fever every 
night, it being only a fortnight since I was thought to> 
be expiring. I imagined they would leave me my 
daughter and maid to serve me. My daughter was 
most at my heart, having cost me much care in her 
education. I had endeavored, with divine assistance, 
to root out her faults, and to dispose her to have no 
will of her own, which is the best disposition for a 
child. She was not yet twelve years of age. 



XXIV. BONDS AND IMPRISONMENT. 



ON the twenty-ninth of January, 1688, I went to 
St. Mary's. There they let me know I must 
neither have my daughter nor a maid to 
serve me, but must be locked up alone in a chamber. 
Indeed it touched me to my heart when my daughter 
was taken from me. They would neither allow her to 
be in that house, nor anybody to bring me any news of 
her. I was then obliged to sacrifice my daughter as if 
she were mine no longer. The people of the house were 
prepossessed with so frightful an account of me, that 
they looked at me with horror. For my jailer they sin- 
gled out a nun, who, they thought, would treat me with 
the greatest rigor, and they were not mistaken therein. 
They asked me who was now my confessor. I 
named him, but he was seized with such a fright that 
he denied it ; though I could have procured many per- 
sons who had seen me at his confessional. So then 
they said they had caught me in a lie and I was not 
to be trusted. My acquaintance then said they knew 
me not, and others were at liberty to invent stories, 
and say all manner of evil of me. The woman, ap- 
pointed for my keeper, was gained over by my ene- 
mies, to torment me as an heretic, an enthusiast, one 
crackbrained and an hypocrite. God alone knows 
what she made me suffer. As she thought to surprise 
me in my words, I watched them, to be more exact in 
them, but I fared the worse for it. I made more slips 
and gave her more advantages over me thereby, beside 
the trouble in my own mind for it. I then left myself 



BONDS AND IMPRISONMENT 249 

as I was, and resolved, though this woman would 
bring me to the scaffold, by the false reports she was 
continually carrying to the prioress, that I would sim- 
ply resign myself to my lot; so I re-entered into my 
former condition. 

Monsieur Charon the Official, and a Doctor of Sor- 
bonne, came four times to examine me. Our Lord did 
me the favor which he promised to his apostles, viz., to 
make me answer much better than if I had studied. 
Luke xxi. 14, 15. They said to me, if I had explained 
myself, as I now did, in the book entitled, " Short and 
Easy Method of Prayer/' I would not now have been 
here. My last examination was about a counterfeit 
letter, which they read and let me see. I told them 
the hand was no way like mine. They said it was 
only a copy ; they had the original at home. I desired 
a sight of it, but could not obtain it. I told them I 
never wrote it, nor did I know the person to whom 
it was addressed ; but they took scarcely any notice of 
what I said. 

After this letter w r as read, the official turned to me 
and said, "You see, madam, that after such a letter 
there was foundation enough for imprisoning you." 
"Yes, sir," said I, "if I had written it." I showed them 
its falsehoods and inconsistencies, but all in vain. I 
was left two months, and treated worse and worse, 
before either of them came again to see me. Till then 
I had always some hope that, seeing my innocence, 
they would do me justice ; but now I saw that they did 
not want to find me innocent, but to make me appear 
guilty. 

The official alone came the next time, and told me, 
I must speak no more of the false letter; that it was 






250 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

nothing. "How no thing,' ' said I, "to counterfeit a per- 
son's writing, and to make one appear an enemy to the 
State !" He replied, "We will seek out the author of 
it." "The author," said I, "is no other than the Scriv- 
ener Gautier." He then demanded where the papers 
were which I wrote on the Scriptures. I told him I 
would give them up when I should be out of prison; 
but was not willing to tell with whom I had lodged 
them. 

About three or four days before Easter he came 
again, with the doctor, and a verbal process was drawn 
up against me for rebelling, in not giving up my papers. 
Copies of my writings were then put into their hands, 
for I had not the originals. I know not where those 
who got them from me have put them, but I am firm 
in the faith that they will all be preserved, in spite of 
the storm. The prioress asked the official how my 
affair went. He said, very well, and that I should soon 
be discharged ; this became the common talk, but I had 
a presentiment of the contrary. 

I had an inexpressible satisfaction and joy in suffer- 
ing, and being a prisoner. The confinement of my 
body made me better relish the freedom of my mind. 
St. Joseph's day was to me a memorable day, for then 
my state had more of heaven than of earth beyond 
what any expression can reach. This was followed, as 
it were, with a suspension of every favor then enjoyed, 
a dispensation of new sufferings. I was obliged to 
sacrifice myself anew, and to drink the very dregs of 
the bitter draught. 

I never had any resentment against my persecutors, 
though I well knew them, their spirit and their actions. 
Jesus Christ and the saints saw their persecutors, and 



BONDS AND IMPRISONMENT 251 

at the same time saw that they could have no power 
except it were given them from above. John xix. 11. 

Loving the strokes which God gives, one cannot 
hate the hand which He makes use of to strike with. 

A few days after, the official came and told me he 
gave me the liberty of the cloister, that is, to go and 
come in the house. They were now very industrious 
in urging my daughter to consent to a marriage, which, 
had it taken place, would have been her ruin. To suc- 
ceed herein, they had placed her with a relation of the 
gentleman whom they wanted her to marry. All my 
confidence was in God, that He would not permit it to 
be accomplished, as the man had no tincture of Chris- 
tianity, being abandoned both in his principles and 
morals. 

To induce me to give up my daughter they prom- 
ised me an immediate release from prison and from 
every charge under which I labored. But if I refused, 
they threatened me with imprisonment for life and 
with death on the scaffold. In spite of all their prom- 
ises and threatenings, I persistently refused. 

Soon after, the official and doctor came to tell the 
prioress I must be closely locked up. She represented 
to them that the chamber I was in, was small, having 
an opening to the light or air, only on one side, through 
which the sun shone all the day long, and being the 
month of July, it must soon cause my death. They 
paid no regard thereto. She asked why I must be thus 
closely locked up. They said I had committed hor- 
rible things in her house, even within the last month, 
and had scandalized the nuns. She protested the con- 
trary, and assured them the whole community had re- 
ceived great edification from me, and could not but 



252 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

admire my patience and moderation. But it was all 
in vain. The poor woman could not refrain from tears 
at a statement so remote from the truth. 

They then sent for me and told me I had done base 
things in the last month. I asked what things? They 
would not tell me. I said then that I would suffer 
as long and as much as it should please God ; that this 
affair was begun on forgeries against me, and so con- 
tinued, but that God was witness of everything. The 
doctor told me that to take God for a witness in such 
a thing was a crime. I replied, " Nothing in the world 
could hinder me from having recourse to God." I was 
then shut up more closely than at first, until I was 
absolutely at the point of death, being thrown into a 
violent fever, and almost stifled with the closeness of 
the place, and was not permitted to have any assist- 
ance. 

Although I have been obliged to describe the pro- 
cedure of those who persecute me, I have not done it 
out of resentment, since I love them at my heart, and 
pray for them, leaving to God the care of defending 
me, and delivering me out of their hands, without 
making any movement of my own for it. I have ap- 
prehended and believed that God would have me write 
everything sincerely, that His name may be glorified; 
that the things done in secret against His servants 
should one day be published on the house-tops; for 
the more they strive to conceal them from the eyes of 
men, the more will God in His own time make them all 
manifest. 

August 22d, 1688, it was thought I was about com- 
ing out of prison, and everything seemed to tend to- 
ward it. But the Lord gave me a sense that, far from 



BONDS AND IMPRISONMENT 253 

being willing to deliver me, they were only laying 
new snares to ruin me more effectually, and to make 
Father La Mothe known to the king, and esteemed by 
him. On the day mentioned, which was my birthday, 
being forty years of age, I awaked under an impression 
of Jesus Christ in an agony, seeing the counsel of the 
Jews against Him. I knew that none but God could 
deliver me out of prison, and I was satisfied that He 
would do it one day by His own right hand, though 
ignorant of the manner, and leaving it wholly to Him- 
self. 

In the order of Divine providence my case was laid 
before Madame de Maintenon, who became deeply in- 
terested in the account given her of my sufferings, and 
at length procured my release, and a few days after- 
ward I had my first interview with the Abbe Fenelon. 

Coming out of St. Mary's I retired into the com- 
munity of Mad. Miramion, where I kept my bed of a 
fever three months, and had an imposthume in my eye. 
Yet at this time I was accused of going continually 
out, holding suspected assemblies, together with other 
groundless falsehoods. In this house my daughter 
was married to Mons. L. Nicholas Fouquet, Count de 
Vaux. I removed to my daughter's house, and on 
account of her extreme youth, lived with her two years 
and a half, but even there my enemies were ever forg- 
ing one thing after another against me. I then wanted 
to retire quite secretly, to the house of the Benedictines 
at Montargis (my native place), but it was discovered, 
and both friends and enemies jointly prevented it. 

The family in which my daughter was married being 
of the number of Abbe Fenelon 's friends, I had the 
opportunity of often seeing him at our house. We had 



254 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

some conversations on the subject of a spiritual life, in 
which he made several objections to my experiences 
therein. I answered them with my usual simplicity, 
which, as I found, gained upon him. As the affair of 
Molinos at that time made a great noise, the plainest 
things were distrusted, and the terms used by mystic 
writers exploded. But I so clearly expounded every- 
thing to him, and so fully solved all his objections, that 
no one more fully imbibed my sentiments than he; 
which has since laid the foundation of that persecution 
he has suffered. 

I now took a little private house, to follow the inclin- 
ation I had for retirement, where I sometimes had the 
pleasure of seeing my family, and a few particular 
friends. Certain young ladies of St. Cyr, having in- 
formed Mad. Maintenon, that they found in my con- 
versation something which attracted them to God, she 
encouraged me to continue my instructions to them; 
and by the fine change in some of them with whom 
before she had not been well pleased, she found she 
had no reason to repent of it. She then treated me 
with much respect, and for three years after, while 
this lasted, I received from her every mark of esteem 
and confidence. But that very thing afterward drew 
on me the most severe persecution. The free entrance 
I had into the house, and the confidence which some 
young ladies of the Court, distinguished for their rank 
and piety, placed in me, gave no small uneasiness to 
the people who had persecuted me. The directors 
took umbrage at it, and under pretext of the troubles 
I had had some years before, they engaged the Bishop 
of Chartres, Superior of St. Cyr, to present to Mad. 
Maintenon that, by my particular conduct, I troubled 



BONDS AND IMPRISONMENT 255 

the order of the house; and that the young women in 
it were so attached to me, and to what I said to them, 
that they no longer hearkened to their superiors. I 
then went no more to St. Cyr. I answered the young 
ladies who wrote to me, only by letters unsealed, which 
passed through the hands of Mad. Maintenon. 

Soon after I fell sick. The physicians, after trying 
in vain the usual method of cure, ordered me to repair 
to the waters of Bourbon. My servant had been in- 
duced to give me some poison. After taking it, I suf- 
fered such exquisite pains that, without speedy suc- 
cor, I should have died in a few hours. The man imme- 
diately ran away, and I have never seen him since. 
When I was at Bourbon, the waters which I threw up 
burned like spirits of wine. I had no thought of being 
poisoned, till the physicians of Bourbon assured me of 
it. The waters had but little effect. I suffered from 
the effect of this poisoning for above seven years. 

God kept me in such a disposition of sacrifice, that 
I was quite resigned to suffer everything, and to receive 
from His hand all that might befall me, since for me to 
offer in any way to vindicate myself would be only 
beating the air. When the Lord is willing to make 
any one suffer He permits even the most virtuous peo- 
ple to be readily blinded toward them ; and I may con- 
fess that the persecution of the wicked is but little, 
when compared with that of the servants of the Church, 
deceived and animated with a zeal which they think 
right. Since, therefore, I must, my Lord, be con- 
formable to Thee, to please Thee, I set more value 
on my humiliation, and on seeing myself condemned of 
everybody, than if I saw myself on the summit of 
honor in the world. How often have I said, even in 



256 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

the bitterness of my heart, that I should be more afraid 
of one reproach of my conscience, than of the outcry 
and condemnation of all men! 

At this time I had my first acquaintance with the 
Bishop of Meaux, to whom I was introduced by an 
intimate friend, the Duke of Chevreuse. I gave him 
the foregoing history of my life, and he confessed, 
that he had found therein such an unction as he had 
rarely done in other books, and that he had spent three 
days in reading it, with an impression of the presence 
of God on his mind all that time. 

I proposed to the bishop to examine all my writ- 
ings, which he took four or five months to do, and then 
advanced all his objections, to which I gave answers, 
but from his unacquaintance with the interior paths, I 
could not clear up all the difficulties which he found in 
them. 

He admitted that looking into the ecclesiastical his- 
tories for ages past, we may see that God has some- 
times made use of laymen, and of women to instruct, 
edify, and help souls in their progress to perfection; 
and I think one of the reasons of God's acting thus, is 
that glory may not be ascribed to any, but to Himself 
alone. For this purpose, He has chosen the weak 
things of this world, to confound such as are mighty. 
1 Cor. i. 27. 

Jealous of the attributes which men pay to other 
men, which are due only to Himself, He has made a 
paradox of such persons, that He alone may have the 
glory of His own works. I pray God with my whole 
heart sooner to crush me utterly, with the most dread- 
ful destruction, than to suffer me to take the least 
honor to myself, of anything which He has been pleased 



BONDS AND IMPRISONMENT 257 

to do by me for the good of others. I am only a poor 
nothing. God is all-powerful. He delights to operate, 
and exercise His power by mere nothings. 

The first time that I wrote a history of myself, it 
was very short. In it I had particularized my faults 
and sins, and said little of the favors of God. I was 
ordered to burn it, to write another, and in it to omit 
nothing anyway remarkable that had befallen me. I 
did it. It is a crime to publish the secrets of the king ; 
but it is a good thing to declare the favors of the Lord 
our God, and to magnify His mercies. 

As the outcry against me became more violent, and 
Madame Maintenon was moved to declare against me, 
I sent to her through the Duke of Beauvilliers, request- 
ing the appointment of proper persons to examine my 
life and doctrines, offering to retire into any prison 
until fully exculpated. But my proposal was rejected. 

Kef erring to the Countess of G. and the Duchess of 
M., I wrote, ''When these ladies and others were in 
the vanities of the world, when they patched and 
painted, and some of them were in the way to ruin 
their families by gaming and profusion of expense in 
dress, nobody arose to say anything against it; they 
were quietly suffered to do it. But when they have 
broken off from all this, then they cry out against me, 
as if I had ruined them. Had I drawn them from 
piety into luxury, they would not make such an out- 
cry. The Duchess of M. at her giving herself up to 
God, thought herself obliged to quit the Court, which 
was to her like a dangerous rock, in order to bestow 
her time on the education of her children and the care 
of her family, which till then she had neglected. I 
beseech you, therefore, to gather all the memorials you 



258 UFB OF MADAM GUYON 

can against me ; and if I am found guilty of the things 
they accuse me of, I ought to be punished more than 
any other, since God has brought me to know Him and 
love Him, and I am well assured that there is no com- 
munion between Christ and Belial. ■ ■ 

I sent them at the same time two of my little printed 
books, with my commentaries on the Holy Scriptures. 
I also, by their order, wrote a work to facilitate their 
examination, and to spare them as much time and 
trouble as I could, which was to collect a great number 
of passages out of approved writers, which showed the 
conformity of my writings with those used by the holy 
penmen. I caused them to be transcribed by the quire, 
as I had written them, in order to send them to the 
three commissioners. I also, as occasion presented, 
cleared up the dubious and obscure places; for, as I 
had written them at a time when the affairs of Molinos 
had not broken out, I used the less precaution in ex- 
pressing my thoughts, not imagining that they would 
ever be turned into an evil sense. This work was 
entitled, "The Justifications. ' ' It was composed in 
fifty days, and appeared to be very sufficient to clear 
up the matter. But the Bishop of Meaux would never 
suffer it to be read. 

After all the examinations, and making nothing out 
against me, who would not have thought but they 
would have left me to rest in peace? But quite other- 
wise, the more my innocence appeared, the more did 
they, who had undertaken to render me criminal, put 
every spring in motion to effect it. I offered the Bish- 
op of Meaux to go to spend some time in any com- 
munity within his diocese, that he might be better 
acquainted with me. He proposed to me that of St. 



BONDS AND IMPRISONMENT 259 

Mary de Meaux, which I accepted ; but in going thither 
in the depth of winter I had like to have perished in 
the snow, being stopped four hours, the coach having 
entered into it, and being almost buried in it, in a deep 
hollow. I was drawn out at the coach-door with one 
maid. We sat upon the snow, resigned to the mercy 
of God, and expected nothing but death. I never had 
more tranquillity of mind, though chilled and soaked 
with the snow, which melted on us. Occasions like 
these are such as show whether we are perfectly re- 
signed to God or not. This poor girl and I were easy 
in our minds, in a state of entire resignation, though 
sure of dying if we passed the night there, and seeing 
no likelihood of anyone coming to our succor. At 
length some wagoners came up, who with difficulty 
drew us through the snow. 

The bishop, when he heard of it, was astonished, 
and had no little self-complacency to think that I had 
thus risked my life to obey him so punctually, and yet 
afterwards he denounced it as artifice and hypocrisy. 
There were times indeed when I found nature over- 
charged; but the love of God and His grace rendered 
sweet to me the very worst of bitters. His invisible 
hand supported me; else I had sunk under so many 
probations. Sometimes I said to myself, "All Thy 
waves and Thy billows are gone over me." Psal. xlii. 
7. "Thou hast bent Thy bow and set me as a mark for 
the arrow; Thou hast caused all the arrows of Thy 
quiver to enter into my reins.' ' Lam. iii. 12, 13. It 
seemed to me as if everyone thought he was in the 
right to treat me ill, and rendered service to God in 
doing it. I then comprehended that it was the very 
manner in which Jesus Christ suffered. He was num- 



260 LIFE OP MADAM GUY ON 

bered with the transgressors. Mark xv. 28. He was con- 
demned by the sovereign pontiff, chief priests, doctors 
of the law, and judges deputed by the Romans, who 
valued themselves on doing justice. Happy they who 
by suffering for the will of God under all the like cir- 
cumstances, have so near a relation to the sufferings of 
Jesus Christ! 

For six weeks after my arrival at Meaux, I was in a 
continual fever, nor had I recovered from my indispo- 
sition, when I was waited on by the bishop, who would 
fain have compelled me to give it under my hand, that 
I did not believe the Word incarnate (or Christ mani- 
fest in the flesh). I answered him that through the 
grace of God, I knew how to suffer, even to death, but 
not how to sign such a falsehood. Several of the 
nuns who overheard this conversation, and perceiv- 
ing the sentiments of the bishop, joined with the 
Prioress, in giving a testimonial, not only of my good 
conduct, but of their belief in the soundness of my 
faith. 

The bishop some days after, brought me a confes- 
sion of faith, and a request to submit my books to the 
Church, that I may sign it, promising to give me a cer- 
tificate, which he had prepared; but on my delivering 
him my submission signed, he, notwithstanding his 
promise, refused to give the certificate. Some time 
after, he endeavored to make me sign his pastoral let- 
ter, and acknowledge that I had fallen into those errors, 
which he there lays to my charge, and made many 
demands of me of the like absurd and unreasonable 
nature, threatening me with those persecutions I after- 
wards endured, in case of non-compliance. However, I 
continued resolute in refusing to put my name to false- 



BONDS AND IMPRISONMENT 261 

hoods. At length, after I had remained about six 
months at Meaux, he gave me the certificate ; but find- 
ing Mad. Maintenon disapproved of the certificate he 
had granted, he wanted to give me another in place of 
it. My refusal to deliver up the first certificate enraged 
him, and as I understood they intended to push mat- 
ters with the utmost violence, I thought that although 
I were resigned to whatever might fall out, yet I ought 
to take prudent measures to avoid the threatening 
storm. Many places of retreat were offered me; but 
I was not free in my mind to accept of any, nor to 
embarrass anybody, nor involve in trouble my friends 
and my family, to whom they might attribute my 
escape. I took the resolution of continuing in Paris, of 
living there in some private place with my maids, who 
were trusty and sure, and to hide myself from the view 
of the world. I continued thus for five or six months. 
I passed the day all alone in reading, in praying to 
God, and in working. But the 27th of December, 1695, 
I was arrested, though exceedingly indisposed at that 
time, and conducted to Vincennes. I was three days 
in the custody of Mons. des Grez, who had arrested 
me, because the king would not consent to my being 
put into prison, saying several times over, that a con- 
vent was sufficient. They deceived him by still stronger 
calumnies. They painted me in his eyes, in colors so 
black, that they made him scruple his goodness and 
equity. He then consented to my being taken to Vin- 
cennes. 

I shall not speak of that long persecution, which 
has made so much noise, for a series of ten years 
imprisonments, in all sorts of prisons, and of a banish- 
ment almost as long, and not yet ended, through 



262 LIFE OF MADAM GUYON 

crosses, calumnies, and all imaginable sorts of suffer- 
ings. There are facts too odious on the part of divers 
persons, which charity induces me to cover. 

I have borne long and sore languishings, and oppres- 
sive and painful maladies without relief. I have been 
also inwardly under great desolations for several 
months, in such sort that I could only say these words, 
"My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?" All 
creatures seemed to be against me. I then put myself 
on the side of God, against myself. 

Perhaps some will be surprised at my refusing to 
give the details of the greatest and strongest crosses of 
my life, after I have related those which were less. I 
thought it proper to tell something of the crosses of my 
youth, to show the crucifying conduct which God held 
over me. I thought myself also obliged to relate cer- 
tain facts, to manifest their falsehood, the conduct of 
those by whom they had passed, and the authors of 
those persecutions of which I have been only the acci- 
dental object, as I was only persecuted, in order to 
involve therein persons of great merit, whom, being 
out of their reach by themselves, they therefore could 
not personally attack, but by confounding their affairs 
with mine. I thought I owed this to religion, piety, 
my friends, my family, and myself. 

"While I was a prisoner at Vincennes, and Monsieur 
De La Heine examined me, I passed my time in great 
peace, content to pass the rest of my life there, if such 
were the will of God. I sang songs of joy, which the 
maid who served me learned by heart, as fast as I made 
them; and we together sang Thy praises, my God! 
The stones of my prison looked in my eyes like rubies; 
I esteemed them more than all the gaudy brilliancies 



BONDS AND IMPRISONMENT 263 

of a vain world. My heart was full of that joy which 
Thou givest to them who love Thee, in the midst of their 
greatest crosses. 

When things were carried to the greatest extremi- 
ties, being then in the Bastile, I said to Thee, "0, my 
God, if Thou art pleased to render me a new spectacle 
to men and angels, Thy holy will be done!" 

December, 1709. 



Note. — The narrative of Madam Guyon's life ends 
here. Her second imprisonment was in the castle of 
Vincennes, and later she spent four years in solitary 
confinement in the Bastile (1698-1702). Her faithful 
maid-servant was imprisoned in the Bastile at about 
the same time, because of her fidelity to her mistress, 
and also to prevent her from creating public opinion 
in her favor. She was so deeply imbued with the prin- 
ciples of her mistress that they were incarcerated to- 
gether at Vincennes, but separated later. 

Of Madam Guyon's imprisonment in the Bastile, 
little is known. Every prisoner who entered those 
walls was compelled to take an oath by which he bound 
himself to maintain secrecy regarding what he had 
seen or heard. If on her release she had made known 
her sufferings there, she would have subjected herself 
to a repetition of them. 

She was released in 1702 at the age of fifty-four, 
and allowed to visit her daughter, the Countess of 
Vaux, at Paris, but because of her religious influence 
was not permitted to remain there. She was banished 
to Blois, one hundred miles southwest of Paris, for 
life. The sufferings and deprivations endured in the 
Bastile had completely broken her constitution, which 



264 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

had already been greatly enfeebled. She was now un- 
able to minister as she had previously done, but spent 
the time in private prayer and correspondence. Re- 
ligious people, some of rank, came to see her from 
different countries, during her banishment, to receive 
the benefit of her conversation and instruction, which 
was always along religious lines. 

"In the beginning of the month of March, 1717, she 
had a very severe attack of sickness, from which she 
never recovered. She had no doubt that her labors 
were drawing to a close. God's hour, that hour to 
which she had looked with interest, had arrived. 
Already those with whom, either as friends or as ene- 
mies, she had been associated in the earlier part of her 
life, Harlai, La Gombe, Fenelon, Beauvilliers, Bossuet, 
the powerful monarch of France, all had been called 
home. At last the summons came to her also. She 
went down to the grave, as her life would lead us to 
anticipate, in perfect resignation and peace. She had 
given her soul to God. No clouds rested upon her 
vision; no doubts perplexed the fulness of her hope 
and joy. At half past eleven o'clock on the night of 
the 9th of June, 1717, she died; aged sixty-nine years. 
Such a departure preceded by such a life might be 
called a transition rather than death. She went home. ' ' 



XXV. SPIRITUAL NUGGETS. 
Culled from Madam Guyon's Writings. 

ACCUSTOM yourself to seek God in your heart 
and you will there find Him. 

£ $ £ 

We do not perish but for want of trusting Him. 

* * * 

The heinousness of sins is not to be measured singly 
by their nature, but also by the state of the person 
who commits them. 



My heart had a language which was carried on with- 
out the sound of words, understood of its Well-beloved, 
as He understands the language of the Word ever 
eloquent, which speaks incessantly in the innermost 
recesses of the soul. Oh, sacred language ! which expe- 
rience only gives the comprehension of! Let not any 
think it a barren language, an effect of the mere 
imagination. Par different — it is the silent expression 
of the Word in the soul. As He never ceases to speak, 

so He never ceases to operate. 

* * * 

It is Thou alone, crucified Savior, who canst make 
the cross truly effectual for the death of self. Let 
others bless themselves in their ease and gaiety, gran- 
deur or pleasures; poor, temporary heavens; as for 
me, my desires were all turned another way, even to 
the silent path of suffering for Christ, and to be united 
to Him through the mortification of all that was of 
nature in me, that my senses, appetites and will, being 
dead to these, might wholly live to Him. 



266 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

Oh adorable conduct of my God. There must be no 
guide for the person whom Thou art leading into the 
regions of darkness and death; no conductor for the 
man whom Thou art determined to cause to die totally 
to himself. 



Under the strokes and daily troubles which befell 
me, my will was so subservient to Thine, my God, 
that it appeared absolutely united to it. There seemed, 
indeed, to be no will left in me but Thine only. My 
own disappeared, and no desires, tendencies or inclina- 
tions were left, but to the one sole object of whatever 
was most pleasing to Thee, be it what it would. If I had 
a will it was in union with Thine, as two well-tuned 
lutes in concert, — that which is not touched renders the 
same sound as that which is touched ; it is but one and 
the same sound, one pure harmony. 



In losing all the gifts with all their supports, I found 
the Giver. In losing the sense and perception of 
Thee in myself, I found Thee, O my God, to lose Thee 
no more in Thyself, in Thy own immutability. Oh 
poor creatures, who pass all their time in feeding upon 
the gifts of God, and think therein to be the most 
favored and happy! How I pity them if they stop 
there, short of the true rest, and cease to go forward 
to God Himself, through the loss of those cherished 
gifts which they now delight in. How many pass all 
their lives in this way, and think highly of themselves 
therein ! They never enjoy God in His fulness, which 
is a loss that cannot be perfectly known in this life. 



SPIRITUAL NUGGETS 267 

If souls had courage enough to resign themselves to 
the work of purification without having any weak and 
foolish pity on themselves, what a noble, rapid and 
happy progress would they make! But few are will- 
ing to lose the earth. If they advance some steps, as 
soon as the sea is ruffled they are dejected; they cast 
anchor, and often desist from the prosecution of the 
voyage. Such disorders occasion selfish interest and 
self-love. 

>;: * * 

All souls have more or less of strong and ardent 
desires, except those whose will is lost in the will of 
God. Some have good desires, so as to suffer martyr- 
dom for God; others thirst for the salvation of their 
neighbor, and some pant to see God in glory. All this 
is excellent, but he who rests in the divine will, al- 
though he may be exempt from all these desires, is in- 
finitely more content, and glorifies God more. 

* * * 

There are consolations which pass away; but you 
will not find true and abiding consolation except in 
entire abandonment, and in that love which loves the 
cross. He who does not welcome the cross, does not 
welcome God. 

* ♦ 5^ 

We must learn to seek God in distinction from His 

gifts, and God is in His will. 

* * * 

God will give us opportunities to try our test, 
whether it be a true one or not. No man can be wholly 
the Lord's unless he is wholly consecrated to the Lord; 
and no man can know whether he is thus wholly con- 
secrated, except by tribulation. That is the test. To 



268 LIFE OF MADAM GUY ON 

rejoice in God's will, when that will imparts nothing 
but happiness, is easy even for the natural man. But 
none but the renovated man, none but the religious 
man can rejoice in the Divine will when it crosses his 
path, disappoints his expectations, and overwhelms him 
with sorrow. Trial, therefore, instead of being 
shunned, should be welcomed as the test, and only true 

test of a pure state. 

* * * 

A little child on perceiving a monster, does not wait 
to fight with it, and will scarcely turn its eyes toward 
it, but quickly shrinks into the bosom of its mother, 
in entire confidence of safety; so likewise should the 
soul turn from the dangers of temptation to her God. 
"God is in the midst of her, she shall not be moved: 
God shall help her and that right early/ ' If in our 
weakness we attempt to attack our enemies, we shall 
frequently be wounded if not totally defeated; but by 
casting ourselves in the simple presence of God, in the 
exercise of faith, we shall find instant supplies of 

strength for our support. 

* * * 

The Divine will never varies and never can vary 
from the line of perfect rectitude on the one hand, and 
of perfect love on the other. This is the law of its 
movement, unchangeable as the Divine existence. 
There can be no true moral union between God and 
man until the human will is brought into harmony 

with the Divine. 

* ♦ * 

Everywhere I found my proper center, because 
everywhere I found God. My heart could then desire 
nothing but what it had; for this disposition extin- 



SPIRITUAL NUGGETS. 269 

guished all its desires, and I sometimes said to myself, 
4 'What wantest thou? What fearest thou?" And I 
was surprised to find upon trial that I had nothing to 

fear. Every place I was in was my proper place. 

* * * 

If the soul were faithful to leave itself in the hand 
of God, sustaining all His operations, whether gratify- 
ing or mortifying, suffering itself to be conducted, 
from moment to moment, by His hand, and annihilated 
by the strokes of His providence, without complaining 
or desiring anything but what it has, it would soon 
arrive at the experience of the eternal truth, though 
it might not at once know the ways and methods by 

which God conducted it thereto. 

* * * 

How very straight is the gate which leads to a life 
in God; how little one must be to pass through it, it 
being nothing else than death to self! But when we 
have passed through it, what enlargement do we find ! 



PRISONS DO NOT EXCLUDE GOD. 

Strong are the walls around me, 

That hold me all the day; 
But they who thus have bound me, 

Cannot keep God away: 
My very dungeon walls are dear, 
Because the God I love is here. 

They know who thus oppress me, 

'Tis hard to be alone; 
But know not one can bless me, 

Who comes through bars and stone: 
He makes my dungeon's darkness bright, 
And fills my bosom with delight. 

Thy love, O God restores me 
From sighs and tears to praise; 

And deep my soul adores Thee, 
Nor thinks of time or place: 

I ask no more in good or ill, 

But union with Thy holy will. 

'Tis that which makes my treasure, 
'Tis that which brings my gain; 

Converting woe to pleasure, 
And reaping joy from pain. 

Oh, 'tis enough, whate'er befall, 

To know that God is All in- All. 



CHRISTIAN LITERATURE 



Prom Death to Life. 

AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY BY ANNA W. PKOSSER 

This gifted author, reared in luxury, writes of the Lord's 
dealing with her. As she was entering on a gay society life, 
she was suddenly stricken in body, and going down into 
death, is miraculously raised up by God to health and called 
to His ministry. 

Woven in with the Story of her Life is much helpful 
teaching along the line of Salvation, Healing, Sanctification, 
Death to self and Baptism in the Holy Spirit, together with 
many helpful lessons along the line of the Lord's dealings 
with her and the work He gave her to do. 

A closing chapter has been added to the second edition 
of the book by one who was closely associated with her 
for many years and left in charge of the Mission and Home 
founded by Miss Prosser; also an introduction by Carrie 
Judd Montgomery, an intimate friend of the author. 

Cloth, 240 pages, $1.00; postage, 10 cents (4s 7d.) 



The Book of Revelation. 

BY D. WESLEY MTLAND 

This book contains twelve lectures on The Apocalypse, 
and opens up to the reader in an inspiring way many hidden 
mysteries. A strong, spiritual life breathes out from its 
pages, and a simplicity characterizes it that is rare in a work 
of this kind. 

One of the most interesting features is the tracing of the 
"five converging lines of vision." (1) the line of the Anti- 
christ's work, (2) the line of Satan's own operations, (3) 
calling out of 144,000 Jews during Daniel's seventieth week, 
(4) the remainder of God's people not prepared to be mem- 
bers of the Bride. (5) Babylon; all of which are separately 
carried up to the Epiphany of the Lord. This method gives 
the reader a clear and comprehensive understanding of this 
Book of the Bible. 



CHRISTIAN LITERATURE 



Mr. Myland also unfolds it as a Book of Consummations, 
the Manifestations of Christ in Glory; a Book of Sevens; a 
Book of Songs and Sorrows, of Hallelujahs and Dirges; a 
Book of Antitheses, depicting the Glory of the Bridegroom 
and the Bride, and the horror of the Antichrist and the 
Anti-Christian; a Book of Victory, and a Book of Restora- 
tion . 

Cloth, 255 pages, $1.00; postage, 10 cents. (4s 7d.) 



Mountain Peaks of Prophecy and Sacred History. 

BY W. H. COSSUM, A. M. 

This book comprises a series of eight lectures, dealing 
with prophetic events, past, present and future, and is the 
result of many years of study. The author m a vivid and 
most interesting way shows God's sovereign hand on the 
nations, particularly on the Jews, in judgment and mercy, 
and that the great movements and federations in the world 
today are unconsciously fulfilling prophecy. 

Contents of the book: Prophecy Fulfilled and Unfulfilled, 
God's Vindication of Himself; the Indescructible Jew, the 
Miracle of the Ages, His Dispersion and Restoration; The 
Zionist Movement, Mesopotamia, Palestine, Pathetic Des- 
tiny; Jerusalem, Religious Center of World, Her Wealth, 
Many Destructions, Final Conflict the Greatest; Land of 
Israel, Mediterranean Sea to Persian Gulf, Present Move- 
ments in and Toward Palestine, Railroads, etc.; Antichrist 
Spirit of Federation, Islam and Israel, the Triangular Mar- 
riage, Young Turk and Mesopotamia, The Great Tribula- 
tion; Babylon, First and Second, the Jew and Wealth, Com- 
mercialism; The Coming of the King, Convenant of Jeho- 
vah with His Son, Antichrist and Christ, King of Truth 
and Love, His Rule in Righteousness and Peace. 

Cloth, 195 pages, 65 cents; postage, 5 cents (7s.) 

Send for our Catalogue of inspiring books and Tracts. 
THE EVANGEL PUBLISHING HOUSE, 

3616 Prairie Ave. Chicago, U. S. A. 



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